


Metamorphosis

by Guynemer53



Category: The Final Season - Fandom, The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post canon- TWDG The Final Season
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2020-11-29 11:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 113,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20962937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guynemer53/pseuds/Guynemer53
Summary: So what happens after Clementine recovers fully from losing her leg and life goes back to normal?  At least what goes for normal in a school of troubled youth in a Zombie Apocalypse.





	1. Eggs

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't tried my writing for well over ten years since I tried writing a zombie novel of my own back in my college days. I succeeded in writing about forty or so pages before I gave up on the effort. But after having read several of these FanFics I decided to give this a shot. Granted, I have NO prior writing experience but since my version is based off of an already established story the ground work has already been laid down. I just like to read and would say that I'm somewhat of a stickler for movies staying try to the book but In this case the roles have been reversed with the STORY being true to the MOVIE (or in this case, the game). With this in mind the groundwork for my narrative has already been established by using my preferred game play-through for as a starter so I take those building blocks, this lump of clay, and add on to it.  
When I first decided to tackle this project I had Four main goals in mind:  
1\. No returning characters from previous seasons. We've already been fortunate enough to be reunited with both Kenny and Lilly from Season 1 in 203 and 402, respectively. By adding another returning character such as Christa(as many fans hoped and have included in their story) it would be pushing the Laws of Probability and turn the Walking Dead franchise into a video game version of the Disney song “It's A Small World After All”.  
2\. I wanted my narrative to mimic my own game play-through. This being done merely to add slight nuances which I myself prefer based on my own opinion on what makes for a better story. For instance, Abel having both arms, Louis is romanced but captured, Violet loses her pinky, AJ kills Lilly, James refuses to help the school once inside the cave and storms off and finally Tenn is shot by AJ on the bridge and then shoots the reanimated Tenn at the fishing shack.  
3\. More dialogue and interactions between certain characters. Omar had so few lines in the Final Season that people could memorize them verbatim after only one play-through.  
4\. Meeting and learning about the Delta's personnel and their Table of Organization and Equipment. Something many fans (I include myself) were hoping for while we awaited the release of 403 and 404. Also what was it about the about the community to the North which Abel alluded to in 403 that made him look like the 'Virgin Mary' as he described it.

SETTING

_Five months have passed since the raid on the SS STEWARTS FITZGERALD which led to its destruction and the death of her crew and the rescue of Aasim, Omar and Louis. The kids of Ericson's Boarding School For Troubled Youth have yet to see any signs of the Delta but are still fearful of reprisals by its remaining members. We find Aasim, Omar and Willy making their way to the fishing shack in search of fish._

“Would someone care to explain to me why I'm out here fishing instead of cooking? What the hell do I know about fishing?”

Omar, or as Louis was want to call him, 'Chef ' Omar wasn't one to swear. Not a sentence with “fuck” or “shit” sprinkled in with every other word like Violet was oh so fond of doing but when he did indeed swear everyone knew that the chef was not at all pleased. Omar, along with Willy and Aasim were making their way to the old fishing shack in their latest attempt to spear some fish and check their traps.

Aasim sighed, he knew no answer he gave would ever pacify the cantankerous cook when he was in this mood.

“Because Clem thought it would be a good idea to break up the monotony and have everyone try doing something else for a change.”

At this all he got from Omar was a mild grunt.

Willy turned and said, “Yeah. Besides, its good exercise for your leg.”

“My leg is fine.”

“Yeah its not.” Willy said with a gap toothed grin. This comment earned Willy a glare from the chef.

“Zip it, both of you.” The moment they had left the confines of the school Aasim felt a headache begin to grow in the back of his skull which only got worse as Omar began his grousing over his sudden change in occupation.

At the beginning of the Delta's raid on the school Omar had taken a bullet through his upper thigh. Luckily it didn't strike any bone or severe any major arteries, it just hurt like a bitch. But unfortunately, Omar; along with Louis and Aasim became unwilling guests of the Delta aboard the supply ship the _SS STEWARTS FITZGERALD _until Clementine led a successful rescue party with the remainder of the crew of Ericson's. During their internment the Delta hadn't offered much in the line of medical care for his leg with the exception of the odd bandage. Aasim did what he could but without Ruby's medical expertise all he knew to do was to keep Omar's leg from developing an infection which occurred despite his best efforts. With Aasim's limited medical knowledge and being imprisoned inside of a cell no bigger than a studio apartment's kitchen and bathroom with no exercise and little food it was surprising Omar didn't lose his leg or even his life. Once they made it back to the school Ruby was able to get the infection under control but ever since the chef still walked with a pronounced limp.

Now as Omar was mulling over in his mind who he had pissed off to be made to work outside the walls he couldn't help but wonder aloud, “What does Louis even know about gardening anyway? _I_ should be the one helping Ruby. Not _him_. What he knows about gardening wouldn't be enough to fill a thimble.”

At this Willy laughed and even Aasim had to agree, mainly because it wasn't at all far from the truth. Louis had always been more interested in cracking jokes which at times did wonders at lifting the kid's spirits during rough times while at other times his jibs were as enjoyed as the sound like fingernails upon a chalk board. When he wasn't having fun at someone's expense, Violet in particular, he could be found playing his prized piano playing much the same songs over and over again ad nauseum.

Since their raid of the _FITZGERALD _there had been no signs of the remaining members of the Delta but even with that they had no interest in pushing their luck by wandering too far past the “safe zone” which Marlon had first implemented when he was in charge. In an attempt to help break up the boredom Clementine struck upon the idea of people taking turns at doing different chores in and around the school. This week would see Ruby and Louis in the greenhouse, Willy; Aasim and Omar fishing, while Violet pulled guard duty. Clem and AJ were in the music room where she was helping AJ with his reading after he came across a bunch of kid's books that had been shoved against a wall in the music room. Next week would find Violet and Aasim hunting with Willy and Ruby in the greenhouse leaving Omar with watch duty so Omar's mood would not be improving anytime in the foreseeable future.

Since the arrival of our dynamic duo they had done much for the school but they also had suffered much. It was thanks to Clem they had found out about Brody and Marlon's secret negotiations with the Delta whereby they traded Tenn's twin sisters to the Delta for protection. They then covered their tracks by telling the rest that Sophie and Minerva had been killed by walkers whilst hunting. Once Clementine had confronted Marlon and after Brody confessed Marlon accidentally killed Brody with a blow to the head with a flashlight and locked Clem inside the basement with Brody, who had since reanimated. Not long after AJ then shot Marlon. When the raiders, led by Clem's former acquaintance Lilly; Mitch was kill along with one of the raiders while Aasim, Louis and the wounded Omar were led away in captivity during which Louis, as punishment for his refusal to be a model prisoner had his tongue cut out. After blowing up the _FITZGERALD_ Clem, along with AJ, Violet and Tenn came across Tenn's sole remaining sister, Minerva and during the ensuing battle Clem was wounded in the leg by Minerva's ax who in turn shot her assailant who fell victim to a pack of walkers. Tenn froze, transfixed by the sight of his sister's death, seemingly oblivious to Violets attempts to get Tenn to safety. AJ had made the tough call and decided the life of Violet was more important so he shot Tenn so Vi could make good her escape.

Minutes later Clementine was bitten while trying to escape the walkers herself. She and AJ made their last stand at James' barn which seemed to spell their doom but it didn't. More of that later.

Clementine had ultimately led the kids to victory but it was a Pyrrhic victory. The final tally since their arrival: Marlon, Brody, Mitch, and Tenn; dead. Omar with an infected gunshot wound to the leg, Louis without his tongue and Clem without a leg. Granted they had destroyed the Delta's supply ship, decapitated their leadership and the death of her crew but they sustained a loss of different type. They lost the support of their friend and former Whisperer, James.

After spending years as a soldier himself he had seen the errors of his ways and began living the life a nomadic hermit, peacefully coexisting among walkers and never killing them. His philosophy about walkers was a bit too much to ask the average survivor who had seen too many friends, acquaintances and loved one to believe as James and did. That there is still something dwelling within a walker of that walker's former self. He had warned Clementine that the boy would grow too fond of killing after he learned that AJ had gunned down Marlon even though he felt remorse. These warnings was brushed off by Clem but while aboard the _FITZGERALD _James had witnessed AJ pointing a gun at Lilly, look to Clementine guidance and to his horror watched as she told AJ to pull the trigger. When they met up with him again he refused to ever help them after witnessing AJ become like so many people he had known before and even tried to take AJ away from her. This venture failed and he stormed off never and had not been seen since.

But back let us return to the present.

It wasn't much further to the shack but Omar's mood nor Aasim's headache for that matter, had improved since we last saw them.

Willy tried to cheer Omar up by saying, “Look. It's easy. All you have to do is just check the traps for fish and reset the 'em and bring back whatever you find. Easy!”

“Hmph! That's not the point!” Omar said testily.

Aasim just rubbed his temple in a vain attempt to alleviate his aching head as Omar took his leave, bucket in hand; to check the traps upriver. “He took that better than I expected.”

Aasim sighed and replied, “I don't give a shits. I don't care if he likes it or not. No one else is thrilled but its getting colder out and food is getting harder to come by and now there's even fewer of us left. We still don't know if the Delta are still roaming around here and Clem's right, we can't chance it.”

“Think we can make it?”

“We've survived all this time without any adults and Clem has yet to us down.”

“But her leg...” Willy said quietly.

Aasim exploded. “So fucking what?! If it wasn't for Clem we wouldn't even be _alive_! We would be stone fucking _dead_ or be in the Delta so shut the fuck up and let's go!”

“Sorry...”

Aasim quickened his pace while Willy remained a respectable distance away, not daring to make things worse continuing to talk. They continued on their way to the shack where they stored their spears and other fishing supplies. Fishing was one job Willy never relished. It wasn't that he hated the act of fishing, that he enjoyed, it's just that it brought back bittersweet memories for him. The spears, made from the sharpened bones of deer or even walkers, had been whittled and shaped by the school's resident anarchist and Willy's best friend, Mitch. Apart from the spears and a fair share of the graffiti that festooned the walls of Ericson's very little remained of Mitch apart from his grave.

When Willy arrived at the school just about all of the kids ignored him for the first few years, he was never picked on himself, something he seen plenty of times. People just seem to let him be. But once he met Mitch they became friends for on reason or another. Something which Willy had never had growing up. But now Mitch was dead. He was just one of the latest kids to die since the outbreak began. While many met their fate due to walkers some also fell victim to freak accidents such as Sheila and Tyrone. Both of whom drowned when they went swimming and strayed too far and were swept downstream. One teenager fell to his death when he lost his balance and feel forty feet trying to climb up the school's bell tower. Simple childhood illnesses claimed lives. Another boy developed tonsillitis and suffered for weeks before his airways finally closed and he succumbed. These types of deaths were always the worst because then someone put the student down before they reanimated.

Ms. Martin, as the only remaining adult remaining after the outbreak took it upon herself to do this most disturbing but necessary chore until she fell victim to walkers in the greenhouse about 2 years after the outbreak.

One day Ms. Martin, Ruby and along with several others were ambushed walkers while they were getting herbs from the greenhouse. Ms. Martin managed to kill the walker with a pair of hedge cutters but was bitten in the process and ordered the kids to run back to her office and fetch her medical bag. Recognizing that this was the end of the road she blocked off the main entrance to the greenhouse, propped up a filing cabinet next to the disused chemistry lab so that when she slammed the door the cabinet would fall the remainder of the way thereby sealing off the chemistry lab and herself. She then climbed onto the garden and tied her arm to the trellis next to the hanging ivies Mrs. Mallik, the Chem teacher, was always so fond of. It was there that Ms. Martin, hero to the end, expired.

“Still, we haven't seen nothin' of those fuckers in _months. _They're probably still licking there wounds and shit. Hell, maybe we're lucky and they're all dead so we should-”

Willy, having stayed mum for the last twenty minutes, decided to say what was on his mind when he noticed that something had caught Aasim's attention which caused Willy to stop in his tracks.

“Aasim? Watcha see?”

He received no reply but once he saw Aasim reach for an arrow he did the same as he drew alongside the Indian-American to see what it was that caught Aasim's attention.

Scarcely 100 feet from them, not far from the shack; was a man stripped to the waist, bathing himself at the river's edge. Willy could feel his blood begin to boil. He was sure that Aasim felt the same way, if not more so. Aasim motioned for him to follow him. They hid behind a large oak tree where they conversed in hushed tones. _This was bad. Real bad_. Aasim thought to himself. If the use of the shack and their traps were denied them their only way of getting food would be hunting. But now that the Delta seemed to be on their very doorstep they couldn't afford to hunt either. This guy had to go.

_ Just as life was getting back to normal. Dammit..._

“Gotta be a Raider.”

“Looks that way. I didn't see any weapons. I think he's alone. You see anyone?”

“No,” Willy looked at the branches above and had an idea. “Lift me up. I'll take a look around.” Aasim nodded and lifted him onto his shoulders where Willy climbed up as far as he dared and looked around the shack and the surrounding area. Seeing nothing he climbed back down and jumped back to the earth.

He picked up his bow and said, “Looks clear. C'mon I say we take the fucker here and now.”

Aasim thought about this for a moment before replying, “Okay, but we need to get closer. Keep an eye out. If he bolts, shoot.”

The pair crouched and made their way as quickly but silently as they dared. Aasim was methodical with the placement of each footfall so as to make the bare minimum of sound with each step until they had narrowed the distance between them and their adversary to 30 feet.

Since the beginning it was Marlon, Aasim, and Mitch who did the majority of the hunting which made the three of them excellent shots with the bow. Louis would occasionally help out with the hunt but it was rare that he actually shot an arrow and even more so that he actually shot anything. Once, when he wasn't paying attention to where he was aiming and nearly shot Mitch in the calf. After being unceremoniously kicked off of the hunting party for good he was relegated to making traps for rabbits and walkers alike. Something which he actually showed an impressive acumen for. Over time Mitch had shown Willy how to shoot so he filled in Louis' slot when it came time for hunting. Marlon was top shot at the bow with Mitch not far behind but with both of them now dead and Clementine without a leg Aasim now enjoyed top shot status.

Aasim stood, took careful aim-

SNAP.

“Fuck...”

Thousands of acres of virgin woodlands surrounded them and the school and Willy had just stepped on a stick. Hell, if Willy was in the desert he'd probably step in dog shit too.

The stranger's head snapped around, seeking the source of the sound and when his eyes fell upon a pair of sharp pointy things pointed in his direction and behind those pointy things were two pissed off looking kids. He pondered his situation and came to a logical conclusion which any sane person in his place would do: he bolted. Or at least tried to. Aasim released his arrow without his aiming which went wide left of target. Just as Aasim was reached for another arrow he saw Willy's shot streak past under the man's armpit. The near miss caused him to lose his balance and crash to the ground. Both Willy and Aasim rapidly closed the remaining distance as he struggled to his feet.

“Don't move or the next one won't miss!” Aasim hissed drawing a bead right in the space between the eyes of the man. A pair of arms instantaneously shot in the air in surrender.

“D-d-d-d-d-don't sh-sh-sh-shoot!”

“Let 'em run. That would make my fucking day.”

“Can it, Willy. You! On your face! Willy, tie him up.

Willy reached into his back pocket and grabbed a a pair of zip ties.

He had found them among a raft of supplies he and Tenn had gone after during their attack on the _FITZGERALD_. As Willy prepped the raft Tenn went off to unhitch the raft's mooring lines attaching it to the pier. Once completed he then tried to jump onto the raft but by then the current had begun to carry Willy and the raft down stream. When Tenn jumped he misjudged the distance and missed the raft by mere inches, falling into the walker infested waters. Willy ran back to the stern to try to help his friend but by then Tenn had already begun treading water back to shore. Not only was Willy unable to help his friend but one of the Raiders, Michael, had spotted them and fired a few shots in Willy's direction. Ducking behind Willy could feel the rounds of 7.62 millimeter impacting the sheets plywood right at his back. When the firing had stopped he peaked over and saw Michael roughly yanking Tenn out of the water then dragging him to shore by the back of his neck. Willy stared helplessly as Tenn was marched back to the _FITZGERALD_.

Feeling helpless and dreading the fate of Tenn and that of the rest of his friends he continued downstream for several miles until he reached a bend in the river that he recognized as an area where Mitch liked to hunt until Marlon declared the area to be outside his 'safe zone'. With no small amount of effort after several unsuccessful attempts he was finally able to beach the raft on the shore then made his way back to the school.

Willy approached and cinched down the first zip tie onto the man's wrist. By looping the second under the first and cinching it down it effectively made a pair of handcuffs.

“Fucker. I should just gut ya and be done with it.”

“NO!”

“On your feet and get moving.”

“B-b-b-b-but my c-clothes!”

“Sucks for you. Git.”

As the stranger got to his feet they got their first real good look at the stranger. He appeared to be in his mid to late thirties, muscular, a full red beard with a quarter sized patch of white hair on his left cheek. His height was difficult to ascertain due to the fact that he had a severely hunched back. His posture was worse than that of Violet's. Not that either Aasim or Willy would dare say that to her face without her decking either of them. Upon closer inspection Aasim realized why the guy was so easy to capture, the toes of his right foot faced inwards. He thought perhaps the foot was deformed or he had a clubbed foot or something along those lines but he couldn't care less. But what really caught his eye was the man's back. From the shoulder blades down to the small of his back there were numerous small, thin, keloid scars running diagonally across his back. He tried counting but gave up at 25.

There was barely anything holding together his shoes and the man's jeans had been repaired multiple time and we held up with a piece of nylon rope laced through what few belt loops that remained.

“Willy, go back upstream and bring Omar here.”

“Got it.” With that he turned on his heel and raced off.

“P-p-p-please don't h-h-hurt m-me...” Aasim turned at the man and glared.

“Sit your ass down and shut the fuck up.”

Fifteen minutes later Willy arrived back with Chef Omar trailing behind.

“Willy said we got ourselves a Raider. That true?”

With a smile Willy said, “You bet your sweet ass we do.” Aasim nodded.

“Gotta be. No else but us comes this way.”

“Uh, so we have a plan? You're not going to kill him are you, Aasim?”

“The thought had crossed my mind actually.”

At this, the man tried and failed to get onto his feet, “NO! I'm b-b-b-begging you!

“I said to shut the fuck up asshole! Now sit down,” looking back at Omar, “I don't know. Let's bring him back the school and let Clem make the call.”

Both Willy and the chef stared at Aasim as if his nose suddenly sprouted a third nostril. Omar recovered first.

“Surely you're joking.”

“You shittin' me? No way we can do that. There could be more of those mother fuckers around and we'd be leading those dickheads straight back to the school.”

Aasim hadn't ruled out that possibility but he always had a thirst for knowledge and information and now wanted to know more than anything about their prisoner.

“I know. I know. It's possible but while we have the upper hand let's see what we can find out from him. As long as he's breathing he can talk. C'mon, Willy. Move it. I don't want to be waiting outside the walls any longer than we have to in case there _are_ any more lurking around.”

“Whatever, dude.” The twelve year old turned and ran off as fast as he could back to Ericson's.


	2. Larva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm Bart Simpson. Who the hell are you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up with dialogue is much harder than I anticipated. My words per chapter are growing and growing way faster than I expected which is cool.

Back at Ericson's, Clementine was sitting on the steps leading up to the former Administration building to the school, failing to notice Louis' approach. He took one look at Clem and after he sat down beside her with a sigh asked,

“_Do you always have to do that_?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Kind of habit by now.”

Louis had caught her absentmindedly twirling the stump of her left leg clockwise. No rhyme or reason why she did this but with half of your leg gone there isn't really much else you can do. Becoming a sixteen year old amputee was a massive transition for someone who had sent most of the last 8 years of her life being self- reliant and always moving. Now she had to wander around the grounds with the aid of an old pair of crutches that had been found in Ms. Martin's office. Whilst losing one's limb was the absolute pits it was better than spending the rest of your days being bed ridden she imagined. AJ had vowed to find what he dubbed a 'foot book' but even Clem wasn't foolish enough to fall for such delusions of grandeur. No one had the carpentry skills for fashioning such as thing as a prosthetic limb. Besides, the crutches where easier and as long as she limited the time she was on them they were tolerable. While AJ had suggested the “foot boot' Louis countered with the idea of a peg leg. This earned Louis a savage punch to his shoulder, courtesy of Violet, which left a bruise which lasted over a week. Clem resigned herself to resemble Robert Louis Stevenson's character Long John Silver.

Suddenly her eyes narrowed as she noticed Louis was here and not where he was supposed to be.

“Wait a minute. Is there some reason you're not in the greenhouse with Ruby?” He, in turn, replied by giving a sheepish grin and signed,

“_Oh, well she kicked me out_.”

“AGAIN?!”

Louis nodded. At this point beginning to feel more and more like a microbe with each passing second, he looked down at his feet and pondered how deep the hole was that he just dug himself into.

After losing his tongue as a punishment for refusing to be a model prisoner of Delta once back at the school, Louis had great difficulty adjusting to life without the ability to speak, joke and most importantly to him, annoy. Only the loss of his hands could have been worse than losing one's voice. After several days of moping he began to develop the means of communicating via a series of whistles, clicks, pointing and at times; writing messages onto paper. Everyone preferred to play charades when talking to Louis not so much because of his braggadocio of being one of the best players of charades of the known world but more so because few could read his hand writing. A thousand years from now explorers from the future would uncover a series of mysterious hieroglyphs and believe they belonged to some previously unknown civilization only to find out it's just chicken scratch belonging to an eighteen year old with shitty handwriting.

Fortunately for all one day, when AJ became bored, he fond himself rooting through cardboard boxes in the music room full of books when he came across a book loaded with pictures and diagrams of fingers and series of bizarre hand gestures. He couldn't find Clem at the time so he took the book to Violet who immediately recognized it as a book about ASL. American Sign Language. This was just what the proverbial doctor ordered.

When Louis received said book he could have cried. He had in his hands the means with which to break his silence and once more have a voice. And to his credit he tore into the book like a man processed. Every waking moment when he was not busy working he could be seen sitting, book propped upon his knees; practicing the alphabet, then forming words and finally, full sentences. The kids marveled at their mute friend's new found calling. Never had any of them seen him so engrossed and dedicated to something. Not even his piano which he barely touched since starting sign language. He threw himself so headlong into it that it was in a rare occasion that he even touched the piano and that was only because he overheard Willy talking about chopping it up for firewood since it wasn't being used anymore. To this end Louis threatened great bodily harm upon anyone who so much as mentioned the word “firewood” in his presence. After a few weeks a chalkboard was scrounged up and was placed in the music room where he went from being a music teacher to an ASL teacher with the kids being his pupils. The idea of Louis teaching anyone anything came with mixed reviews.

Clementine and AJ, especially AJ, picked up on it rather quickly. The five year old was always wanting and willing to learn. A veritable sponge always willing to soak up all the information he could. They were at a school after all so what better place to educate oneself. The rest of the kids tried their best, the exception being Violet. The blonde was as well known for her patience as Louis was known for his efficiency as an educator. Try as she might eventually gave up, relying on the others to translate for her. With the English language containing over 400,000 words, numbers and a dizzying array of punctuation marks, Louis was by no means flawless but with the use of context clues and his personal hand gestures he able to hold his own in a conversation. And of course no time was wasted in regaining his whit and sense of humor enjoyed almost exclusively by himself.

“_I am an artiste. My fingers are for tickling the ivories, not the pulling of weeds_.”

Clem chuckled and bent over to her boyfriend. For as much as she loved him at times she was convinced Louis couldn't pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel.

“Idiot.” Then a scolding look came over her face, “Now answer the question: Why did Ruby kick you out?”

Out of all of the kids of Ericson's Boarding School for Troubled Youth, Ruby was undoubtedly the most mature. Since the death of the only remaining adult in the school, Ms. Martin Ruby took the role upon herself. Thanks to Ms. Martin's tutelage Ruby had become a first rate resident nurse. From time to time she would even play the role of therapist but most of all, for the younger kids at least; she was the closest thing many of them ever had to a mother. But even with all the maturity and the multitude of hats Ruby wore at the school Louis was the sole individual who could try her patience or knew just what nerve to touch to send the redhead once known for her violent outbursts against students and faculty alike, over the edge. Yet again he had been given what was thought the idiot proof task of pulling weeds while leaving the herbs unmolested under threat of a severe beating. Louis proceeded to forget how to tell the difference between dill and weeds and as a consequence of having too much pride to ask this led to doing what he does best in this type of situation: he improvised. Much to his detriment. Fortunately Louis was able to run out of range just as a pair of garden shears impacted scant feet where he stood only moments before . He dared not look behind him as he sought the safety of the Admin building where he found Clementine sitting.

With Clem in her condition she wasn't able to help as much as the others. Another harsh reality which Clem knew she would never be able to tolerate. Ruby had absolutely forbidden her to go beyond the confines of the school and with good reason. As much as Clem chaffed at that she couldn't argue with Ruby's position. It was by the thinnest of margins that she had survived not only being bitten and but also surviving the subsequent amputation of her leg. But let us back track a little shall we?

After Clem's fight on the bridge with Minerva and the subsequent death of both Minerva and her brother Tenn, Violet had become separated from AJ and a wounded Clementine by a herd of walkers. As the two of them attempted to climb a sheer rock face the Clem's worst fear was realized. She was bitten. After several hours of walking they arrived at James' barn were he been “collecting” walkers. Once there, Clem and AJ prepared for what they both knew would be their last stand. They fought valiantly against the onslaught brought on by the herd until they ran out of both ammunition and seemingly, options. Clem had previously made AJ swear that he would do what she couldn't bring herself to do to Lee. Kill her if she was bitten. But this would prove to be one order AJ could not bring himself to follow. Instead of putting the woman who had moved heaven and earth to protect, lost and found again he instead took up Minerva's ax and severed the infected limb. Clementine had mercilessly passed out from the pain. Acting quickly AJ started a small fire with which he heated up the head of the ax and used the now heated ax head to cauterize the wound. The smell of burnt flesh was a smell he knew would never be forgotten as long as he lived. He took off his shirt and cutting off a section not covered in walker guts, wrapped it around the exposed stump. He then seemed at a loss as to how to get them both out of the barn and past the herd when he spied the wheelbarrow he had used earlier to close one of the horse pens. Now came his next hurdle: how to get a now unconscious Clementine into said wheelbarrow. Well, it wasn't easy but by first placing an arm, then other, followed by her good leg and finally then by summoning what remained of his strength he was able to thrust her inside. After applying both both of them with a fresh coat of guts they made their way outside the barn.

There seemed to be hundred of walkers surrounding the barn. An unceasing tide of death with it's accompanying wall of moaning and groaning of all of those walkers surrounded them from all sides. AJ struggled to keep his cool knowing that it only took one false move, one single cry; would kill them both. Making slow progress was no problem as he was pushing such a heavy burden but by now his energy was nearly spent. It had, by now, been nearly twelve hours since they had first started off and even longer since he had eaten or had so much as a drop of water. He had made it a scant 100 yards when a miracle happened.

Aasim and Louis found them.

Louis grabbed AJ just as he was about to collapse from exhaustion.

The two took turns, one carrying AJ while the other pushed Clem's inert form inside the wheelbarrow. They hoped and prayed they wouldn't run into any walkers on their way back but they did. Most of the time they were able to outrun them but there were some instances where they had to go toe to toe with the odd walker. After what felt like a eternity they arrived back at the school. Once inside the safety of the school Ruby examined her friend and instantly knew she had her work cut out for her. The prospects were not looking good for their friend and savior.

Clem's leg had been traumatically amputated roughly 5 inches below her left knee. By cauterizing the wound AJ had been able to check the worst of the bleeding but that was still no guarantee that infection wouldn't set in. Further, when it came to burns it wasn't the burn itself that could prove to be fatal but the infection, leading to sepsis; that kills. After debriding and cleaning the wound as best as she could Ruby placed a fresher bandage on the stump. There was sense in beating around the bush to the rest as to what Clementine's chances of survival were. Only time would tell and with the exception of an inconsolable AJ, each would person would have take their turn sitting at to Clem's bedside. Each hoped to be the one on duty when Clem opened her eyes for the first time. But in the back of everyone's mind, there was little doubt that their friend would most likely turn. Something none of them dared to speak aloud. None of them wanted to have to be the one to put their friend down. Some of them had had to do that in the past but it never got easier with time, more so with everything they had been through with Clementine at the helm.

Then, on the sixth day after surgery, while Louis was on guard, he saw Clem begin to stir. After a few anxious moments with his heart racing and knife at the ready, he gazed at his love with tears in his eyes and was greeted by a pair of brown eyes.

Clem had survived.

“_You know you still owe me a dance_.” Louis signed as he gave his beau a slight nudge with his elbow. Clem responded by rolling her eyes.

“Still wanna dance with a one- legged girl?”

“_So easy to twirl_.” With that Clem gave a hearty laugh just before they exchanged another kiss.

“You really are a Grade A weirdo. Seriously though, you need to start paying more attention. Unless you want us to go back to bland soup. It's getting colder out and the fish are about gone 'til spring and the rabbits aren't around like they used to be there's gonna be a shortage of meat.

“_I shudder to think_.”

Clementine gave Louis a stern look much like a displeased mother would give to her child, “Stuff it. We have to make that greenhouse work for us as much as possible. Plus with the Delta-”

Louis interrupted with a snort, “_Fuck the Delta. They're gone. We won, Clem._”

Clem continued, ignoring the interruption, “-with the Delta still out there somewhere we-NOW what?!”

The interruption this time took the form of a series of high pitched whistles emanating from Violet who was currently taking her turn on watch duty. By the time Louis stood and helped Clem up and onto her crutches Vi had descended from the tower and was running towards them, hell bent for leather.

By the look on the blonde's face they knew some shit was stirring.

“Willy's coming back in one helluva hurry.

“Aasim? Omar?

“Don't know. Just Willy far as I can tell.”

“Shit. Lou, get the gate open.” Louis ran to the gate and opened it just as Willy reached it and sped past him and ran straight to Clem. Neither had to ask what happened before Willy started rattling off his report.

“_Wefoundaguy...Downbythefisingshack...Raider...Aasimwantsbringhim..here...”_

Violet and Clem both found themselves greatly annoyed by now. Willy always did have the tendency to get worked up but now was not the time. They needed answers and needed to know what the hell was going on.

Violet spoke first, “Willy, Calm. The fuck. Down. What the fuck happened? Where's Omar and Aasim? Did you say Raider?” To this Willy nodded. Willy paused for a few more seconds to collect his thoughts, as well as his breath.

“We....found...someone...by the shack. Me and Aasim got him tied up.” Clem looked first at Violet and Louis then back to Willy.

“Are they still with the guy now?” Willy nodded in the affirmative.

“Yeah. Aasim wants to bring him....here...”

“_Here_?! Like fuck you are! Clem, no way we're bringing him back here!”

“Did you see anyone else?”

Louis mimicked having a rifle. To both of these questions Willy shook his head in the negative.

“I climbed a tree and scouting for others. Just the one.” He had recovered his breath by now. “That Raider fuck was taking a bath in _our_ river.

Louis tried to ask Willy how he knew it was a Raider but couldn't make himself understood. Willy was another student who gave up early on learning sign language. Clem answered his question for him,

“Who else would it be? When was the last time we've seen anyone else come this way besides me and AJ? Haven't seen James in months.” Louis just shrugged as if to say 'Just asking.'

Clem stayed silent for a minute while she digested all she had heard from Will's report. All these months of peace and tranquility all gone to shit now. This was easily their worse case scenario. After the attack on the school and the raid on the _FITZGERALD _there was no way they could fight off another assault.

“Bring him back here.” Vi's head snapped towards her friend, an incredulous look on her face.

“_What_?! Are you bat shit fucking crazy?! No fucking way can he come here!” Even Louis was taken aback.

“_Surely you jest_?”

By now Clem had her game face on as she looked at VI and said, “Look, at this point we have no other choice. He's already seen the guys plus he's tied up. We might as well see what he knows and what their plans are since it seems they're back in town. If the Delta come here they won't attack if they know we have one of their people.”

“They sure as shit didn't care when we had Abel. What makes you think they'll give a fuck about this sack of shit?” This came from Willy.

Clem turned towards Willy, an annoyed look crossing her face again in as many minutes. “And what do _you_ propose to do? Kill him or just let him go? _No,we're not killing him!”_

As she asked Willy what he wanted to do she noticed a smile spread across his face which told her the answer. As quick and easy, hell; even as preferable that would be, she'd be damned if she wasn't curious and wanted to question the guy.

“Clem, think about it: This. Is. Fucking. Retarded. We we'd be leading 'em right back to the school. Everyone who knew how to find this place are _dead_. We might as well roll out the red friggin' carpet!”

Clem had to agree that her friend did have valid point about the Delta finding their way to the school but she still couldn't come up with a reasonable compromise. Not like anyone else was helping. _God, why did I have to be in charge_? She thought to herself before giving her ruling.

“Willy, go get AJ and Ruby and let them know whats up. Lou, go get Aasim and Omar and bring the guy here.”

Willy looked up replied, “Aasim figured you'd say that. They should be close by now.”

“Good.”

Violet simply replied with a grumbled, “Whatever...” Sounding not at all happy which Clem didn't give one iota of care at this point. Meanwhile, Louis simply nodded and ran back inside the dorms. He returned moments latter with his weapon of choice, a former chair leg with nails sprouting from it's head which he had dubbed “Chairles”. He then took off and raced down the path they used to get the shack. Clem wasn't sure if Louis was onboard with her plan or .not since he took off so quickly. She really hoped she did. As it stood she and perhaps Aasim were the only one's who didn't want to kill their intruder on the spot. This was going to be a hard sell to the rest of the kids and the more Clem thought about it the more she hated the fact she was the one in charge.

Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.

_ God fucking dammit..._

Aasim and Chef Omar, with their visitor in tow, were by now only a mile way from the school. Aasim had anticipated Clem's answer so they started marching their charge back towards the school. He was just glad that the prick had finally decide d to just shut up and hadn't spoken a single syllable. It had not been a smooth nor a speedy trip. It wasn't just the fact that the man was walking through the West Virginia woods in his bare feet but they had discovered that he had a jacked up foot. For whatever reason the man's right foot faced inwards slightly which gave him a noticeable limp. Add onto the the fact how stooped his posture was and with his arms pinioned behind him it was only a matter of time before he would fall. Omar carried the man's shoes and his shirt in his bucket. They had mulled over the idea of giving him back his things but decided that neither of them wanted him with shoes in case he tried to head but one of them in an attempt to escape. That and they didn't give a shit as to the well being of a member of the Delta. They didn't receive four star treatment themselves so they sure as hell weren't going to.

They had closed to within half a mile when they encountered Louis. He first looked to the man, then to Omar since Omar was better at his version of sign language than Aasim was. Not that Aasim didn't try to learn but part of him did find Louis a little bit more tolerable when he didn't know what he was saying all of the time. He felt like a douche thinking it but he couldn't lie.

Lou signaled Clem's desire to bring the newcomer back.

Omar nodded, “We figured as much.”

Louis looked back at the guy and asked, “_What happened to him_?”

Aasim just glared at the guy, “He fell.”

“_Uh, how many times exactly_?” When the man made eye contact with him Lou observed a face that was covered in a multitude of red scratches and scrapes and a slight trickle of dried blood on his right temple which stained his rust colored beard. He had a look in his eyes that just perhaps this new kid in dreads, bearing one gnarly looking chair leg might show him some sympathy. Unbeknownst to him is out of all of the kids he was surrounded by the three who were the _least_ likely to show him any cordiality and kindness, Louis in particular. Louis allowed the question to go unanswered as they turned and continued their trek back. It was getting close to sunset. Plus, Aasim and Omar had been outside the walls all day, were famished and in need of some shut eye. Not that they thought either was possible today.

As the quartet drew closer to the gate the man suddenly stopped when he spied Ericson's Boarding School For Troubled Youth's macabre choice of lawn decoration, namely the reanimated corpse of Abel.

Abel had been taking prisoner after Lily's semi-successful raid on the school which had left both sides bloodied. After his capture and subsequent interrogation Clementine had promised to end his misery if he guaranteed to answer her questions truthfully but the days of playing by the rules and fair play were a thing of the past. The kid gloves had come off and as Violet had put it they had quit handing out participation trophies when the dead started eating people. There wee now only two groups of homo sapiens in the world now, the undead and the living. The living were themselves divided into the haves and the have-nots. It was now a time of one thing and one thing only. Survival.

Once Clem obtained the answers she wanted she allowed Abel to succumb to his internal injuries sustained from their fall atop the headmaster's balcony. There Walker Abel remained; tied to a school desk, sitting in darkness. As Clem was lying in her bed unconscious few weeks later Willy struck upon the idea of what to do with Abel. First order of business was figuring a safest way to get Abel out without endangering the others. Moving a walker would be a first for all of them. Had Clem been around she could have told them a trick she had seen Jane do years before but she was in no condition to help. Eventually they devised an exhaustive sequence to do the deed. First, while Abel was still tied to the desk they to placed a rag in his mouth to prevent him from biting then wrapped his head in an old scrap of blanket. After which they coaxed Abel up the steps leading to the school's central courtyard. Just getting out of the basement took four of them most of the morning to accomplish. Once there they endeavored to move him out past the gates and out into the area where they had set their traps years before, this taking them until late evening to finish. They then tied him to a massive oak tree next to a large sign with the words “_DON'T FUCK WITH US_” printed on it as a warning to any who dare trespass on their domain.

Having spent over five months exposed to the elements Abel had seen better days as his body had by now entered the more advanced stages of decomposition. What little exposed skin that remained was grayish green in color. You were still able to see his heterochromia but eyes that were once brown and green had changed, one to gray and the other, a pale yellow since his reanimation. He had also had since being chained up, a constant stream of companions in the forms of ants, spiders and god only knows what other types of insects crawling over the corpse, some nibbling on his flesh as they scurried past.

If his appearance wasn't enough to turn your stomach the kid's had to endure the other unenviable side effect of putting rotting cadaver on display. The stench.

With the wind blowing in just the right direction the smell of putrefaction wafted it's way towards the school making whomever had lookout duty at that moment most intolerable. Fortunately for those not on watch the smell didn't reach into the courtyard itself. From the tower the stink was strong enough to kill the appetite of even the strongest of stomachs. As a means to remedy this the decreased the length of watch duty from two hours to one so as to give the person some fresh air. Had the smell filtered it's way onto the grounds Omar would be forced to prepare their meals outside, knowing he would be forced to work with the smell of death in the air, then have everyone eat indoors. They were all grateful that they didn't have to resort to those measures. They had all that space to move about but because of Abel they would have to remain indoors if they wanted fresh air. After a week they began using every word in the book to describe Willy and his brain child and had even gone so far as to threaten him with permanent guard duty since it was his idea in the first place.

“Recognize someone you know?” Omar said to the man, startling him.

Aasim stared and replied, “Goddamn right he does. We're almost home. You, keep moving.” With that Aasim kicked the man squarely in the back, knocking him to the ground. The man tried fruitlessly to get back up under his own power and after a few seconds Aasim snapped, royally. What followed was a flurry of punches aimed at the man's head, not caring where his fists hit just as long as the hit flesh and caused as much pain as Aasim himself felt while they were all prisoners. Once the man curled into the fetal position and began covering his head Aasim switched tactics and began delivering savage kicks to the kidneys and any other part of the man's body he was unable to protect. The beating eventually sucked all the energy out of the prostrate man and just laid there limply as several more kicks were delivered before Omar and Louis combined to pull Aasim off. Aasim, still seething with rage and breathing heavily, glowered down at the near unconscious form at his feet and spit on it. Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his flannel shirt he stormed off towards the school leaving Omar and Louis where they stood, dumbstruck. Granted they lived years among kids with violent tendencies and had seen their fair share of educational beat downs and had even been involved in a few themselves but this one was different.

They both looked down at the bruised and blooded man who laid where he fell, curled in the fetal position, body quacking from his pitiable sobbing. Louis met Omar's gaze with a look that said, “_Did that just happen?_” After a grief moment a hardened look came over Omar's face, 'Feel sorry for him? He deserved every bit of it. Let's leave 'im.' Louis gave Chef Omar an sympathetic look, turned back towards the form of the man and placed his hand on the man. The man instantly recoiled to the touch, followed by a shriek of protest. Louis tried again by using his most gentle of touch since he was unable to utter any words to let the man know he meant know harm and was there to help him. Somehow he seemed to realize this and allowed Louis to bring him to his feet. Louis placed a arm around the man's neck since his arms were still bound and walked the man towards the gate. Omar was beside himself in wonderment. He just couldn't fathom why Louis of all people seemed be showing any type of sympathy for someone who's group was the source of so much pain, destruction and death.

“Whatever,” he said to no one in particular as he picked up his bucket with the man's belongings and walked passed Louis without a glance back until he opened the gate and entered the school.


	3. Pupa

By the time they all arrived back at the school the rest of the kids of Ericson's had assembled in preparation for their first glimpse of their most unexpected and unwanted visitor. Aasim had walked passed everyone and didn't even acknowledge any of them as they asked him a bevy of questions. He just continued towards the Admin building where he retrieved his journal from his room and returned back to the courtyard where he sat down to his desk and began to chronicle the days events.

After failing to get any answers from Aasim they made their way towards Louis, who was still helping the man walk. Once they all got close and got their first glimpse of the man's face a series of gasps and expletives were uttered.

“Who's this sorry piece of shit?'

“Clem, a Raider?”

Clem first looked at Vi, then looking down at AJ replied, “Think so, kiddo.” Louis looked towards his girlfriend and shook his head in the negative.

“I don't think so.”

Violet rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Lou? Who the fuck else would be out here besides us? Besides Clem and AJ the only people we've seen here were those Delta fucks.”

A stern looked came over AJ's face as he looked at Violet, “What about James?”

At the mention of James' name she felt a huge pang of remorse. She had never told the rest of the group what occurred with James back in that cave that night. She told them they had gotten separated as they desperately tried to find a tunnel that led them to safety, trailed by dozens of walkers. Neither were they told of the argument about how AJ shot Lilly, on Clem's orders, in the head then proceeded to pump round after round into her corpse in blind fury. To James' horror, the very thing he had feared for AJ and had warned Clementine of, had come to fruition. AJ confessed it felt good to kill Lilly, that anything that threatened them deserved to die. James tried to take AJ away from her but after AJ fought back James realized it was a hopeless venture and left them alone in the cave as he made his own way, not realizing he had left his mask behind him. He had not been seen since. Since the only other witness to the fight, Tenn, would meet his end at the hands of AJ a short time later, all that had to been done was to have AJ swear to secrecy which he required little convincing. 

Ruby was the last of the group to arrive on seen. They all saw her pace quicken as she saw the blood covering most of the man's face.

“Oh lord, What on earth happened to 'im?!” When her question garnered no response her next sentence went up many decibel levels. 

Ya'll answer me this damned instant!” The stranger looked up at the enraged ginger and in a barely audible voice spoke.

“B-b-b-beaten...Tortured.” He raised a finger at the kid sitting at the desk as he wrote. Oblivious to the glare, strong could melt ice, directed squarely at him. Ruby flew off in Aasim's direction in a fury the original residents of the school hadn't seen since Ruby's turbulent days when Ericson's was still functioning school. They all knew better than to get anywhere within throwing distance when she got like this. AJ, not knowing any better tried to make his way towards them until he felt Louis grasp his arm in a vise like grip and rapidly shook his head indicating it was a bad idea. Clem didn't had heard what Ruby used to be like but had never witnessed it. All she knew is that shit was most certainly about to go down.

Aasim saw the shadow that cast over himself and his journal but didn't look up. Had he done so he would have seen the freckled hand which slapped him across the face, it would then be known as the “Slap Heard 'Round the World'. It obviously wasn't heard past anyone in the courtyard but it did nearly succeeded in knocking him out of his seat and sending journal flying. 

“Jus' what in the hell d'ya think ya doin' you stupid shit?! Aasim ignored her and went to pick up his journal from the ground while Ruby continued to rip him a new one. “So now we just torture people?! You done fucked up good bringin' 'im here and expectin' me ta fix 'im up! Mebbe I should beat the tar outta you and see how ya like it! We ain't like the adults! We better than them! Than that!” He still refused to make eye contact but just sat back down and continued to writing where he left off. Ruby, still livid, huffed and turned on her heal and returned to the rest of the group.  
“Sit 'im down on the picnic table an' ah'll grab mah things and ah'll see what I can do. That asshole Aasim sure did a numba on the guy.”

“I wouldn't even bother. Let's just feed him to Abel and be done with him.”

“Violet!”

“Vi!”

“I'm game.”

“Shut up, Willy!”

Once everyone responded Clem spoke up, “VI, we gotta find out what we can now that he's here. He could be a scout and the rest are out there waiting for him.”

AJ looked up with his eyes as big as saucers, “You mean they might be coming back?”

Clem shrugged. Temporarily forgetting she was standing with the aid of crutches she almost fell before Omar caught her. That made her look and feel stupid and caused her face to flush.

“Thanks, Omar. I don't know, AJ. It's possible and we've always thought it was possible if not inevitable.”

“In-ev-it...”

“Forget it. I want to know what the Delta are up to. Until we find out what we want to know everyone, and I mean everyone stays inside these walls.”

Violet had stood in place with her arms crossed and now rolled her eyes and said, “Great. So we ll just stay her and fucking starve. Great plan, Clem.” Clem could just feel her blood truly begin to boil at her friend's comments.

“Vi, fucking zip it.”

“Whatever, don't expect me to kiss his fucking ass.” With that she turned and walked away, oblivious to the glare Clementine threw in her direction. Whenever the Delta first became a threat to them no one, with the exception of Mitch, questioned her decisions but now that life had seemingly settled down. Now this peckerhead showing up succeeded in tossing all the confidence, faith and trust the kids had in her into the wind. AJ could sense how deeply troubled Clementine was feeling inside.

“Clem, what are we gonna do?” She tried her best to give the boy she had raised since birth a smile of reassurance but knew she failed mightily.

“We'll let Ruby do her thing and then I'm going to have a little chat with our 'guest'. That's what.” As she said the last sentence she looked over at the man, seated at the table still doubled over in pain. 

Maybe we would be better off feeding him to Abel.

Ruby did her magic and ministered the man's injuries as best as she could. She was still fuming over Aasim's brutality and nearly exploded on the rest when no one stepped forward to help her get the man dressed when asked. Luckily Louis stepped forward and volunteered his services. They couldn't decide the safest way to go about getting the man dressed without having him do it himself. He seemed docile enough but Lou was the only even willing to go near him. In the end they had to concede it was the safest way to get it over with so they untied his arms and let him dress himself. Once he was dressed they made him lay on his stomach and retied his arms. They gave him some water and let him rest on one of the couches near their campfire for a little while before Clementine began her interrogation.

When all was ready she had a chair moved across from their detainee. Willy, Omar, Ruby, AJ, and Louis stood by expectantly and when Willy went to sit down on one of the other couches Clem spoke.

“No. Piss off. All of you.”

What followed was a chorus of protestations split equally between those worried about her well being and those who wanted to hear the conversation itself. But Clem would have none of it. She had no desire to have anyone interrupt. Plus, she was already in a foul mood now that she had dissension in their ranks for the first time in a long time. She had now qualms about using torture on Abel but she had a feeling this interrogation would require a different type of tact to get the answers required. They both sat staring, wondering what to make of one another. The newcomer seemed to recognize that while Clem was in charge which meant she was the one to talk to if he wanted to survive.

The interrogator began by leaning forward and placing her elbows on her knees and began, “I want answers. Everyone wants you dead. Change my mind.”

“N-n-n-NO!”

“Where's the rest of you?

“I'm b-b-b-b-by myself!”

Clem knew this wasn't going to go well. Vi and Willy might get their way after all.

“Bullshit. We've killed you and your friends before and we'll do it again. I know there's more of you just waiting out there waiting. Hell, they're probably waiting for you to come back so they can sneak in and slit our throats while we sleep.”

“No! I'm n-n-not from the Delta! Pennsylvania. B-b-b-born and raised.”

“City?”

“Wuh-wuh-wuh-Wampum.”

She didn't recall that name as being one of the list of cities used by the Delta in the past. Being from Georgia herself she had no idea if this Wampum was even a real place. Maybe, maybe not. It mattered not.

“So you've been walking, all this time by yourself, when you just happened to find us? That's one helluva coincidence. Funny, I don't buy it.” The memory of Marlon saying something very similar flashed in her mind. The night when Clem found first learned of the deal between the Delta and Marlon and how he tried to pin Brody's death on her. The thought of Marlon's betrayal caused the bile to rise in her throat. 

“So. What happened to your group then? If you were even part of one?” 

He then began to tell his story of his of moving westward with a group of twenty-two in an attempt to get to the Ohio River, then finding a boat and making their way South. The idea of finding a boat made Clem's heart sink as it made her think about Kenny, who; being a former fisherman, desired to find a boat to take them to safety which, they eventually found one only to have it stolen from them by members of Geriatric Park. 

Stanley's group was able to find a boat but a fight broke out as to who was going aboard and who wasn't. The stranger was one of those who weren't allowed on the boat partially because of his foot but primarily because no one could stand that damned stutter. Not that Clem blamed them. Words were exchanged and shots were fired which left three survivors dead while two more were wounded and had to be left behind. Those left standing after the firefight with still holding guns then chose who went with them and who stayed behind. The group of twenty-two had now shrunk to seventeen, nine of them left embarked on a boat designed to handle no more than five. The stranger, along with the other seven made their way down river. Dejected, fearing for their lives and with only a few knives, a machete and two hatchets between them as defense against the walkers. Picking up whatever gear was left they tried their best to ignore the jeers and taunts coming from those on the boat until they were out of earshot.

They continued southward and several hours later as if to rub a healthy amount of salt in their already fresh wounds then rubbing in some lemon juice, the boat passed them. Only this time those on the boat said nothing. Those on land also said nothing. Both parties just stared at one another in complete silence until they lost sight of each other around a bend in the mighty river. Two days later the smell of smoke reached them and further down river they found it's source. The boat had beached itself, it's fiberglass body melted and charred. A fire had broken out at some time after they last crossed paths. There appeared to be no survivors. None present were sorry. They had gotten their revenge and revenge is a dish best served ice cold. It would have been nice to have the weapons though. They continued forth until they began to encounter more and more walkers. Day by day the group was killed off until only the invalid and one other remained. 

Because of Stanley's stutter the interrogation lasted for the better part of an hour. A sudden wave of exhaustion swept over her. Since the loss her leg she just didn't have the energy she once enjoyed. The more she listened to the guy the more convinced she became that he was telling the truth about not being with part the Delta. There was no way someone as evil as Lilly would let someone like this to be part of her precious Delta. What could this guy possibly contribute to a group of any size. Hell, if she hadn't had the kid's support in the first place and her organizational skills they would have kicked her out if they knew what was good for them now that she was lame. He was weak. Weakness. That word prompted another memory, this one dark if not darker. This one of another amputee she once knew briefly, thrown off of a roof because he screwed up. Because he was weak. Carver. A name she hadn't thought of in years. Even to this day the thought of the man sent a shiver up her spine. Pure evil and she was forever grateful she watched Kenny annihilate his skull with a crowbar, he was correct that weakness can bring down a group.  
Tenn, oh god, Tenn...  
It pained her to consider it but when Tenn came out of hiding, tricked into believing that Lilly would tell him what happened to his sisters and would show them to him that was stupid. This led to Mitch being killed at the hands of Lilly. Fast forward a few weeks and Tenn had the golden opportunity to kill Lilly but didn't have it in him. Only the AJ's timely intervention saved Tenn from taking a head shot. AJ saved Tenn's life and as a reward Tenn would nearly get Violet killed when he froze yet again when the trio met up with Tenn's sole surviving sister, Minerva and a swarm of walkers on the bridge. Clementine had reluctantly allowed AJ to make his own decisions when it came to deciding when to protect them but she never could have imagined the first decision he would make would be to shoot Tenn to save Violet.

In addition to the wave of exhaustion Clem also realized she was starving. This was too much for her to ignore and cut the man off just as he was about to continue his tale. She was satisfied with the answers obtained already. Waiting for the movie to come out would take less time than waiting for Stuttering Stanley to finish his tale of woe. 

Stuttering Stanley. I like that name. That's what we'll call 'im. 

For the first time all day a smile came to her face. It was something Louis no doubt would have come up with. Shit, maybe Lou was beginning to rub off on her. Even though she was convinced he wasn't part of the Delta she was still in charge and had no desire to take any chances than were absolutely necessary in event she was wrong. She looked towards the Admin building and noticed Louis leaning against one of the building's Doric columns, staring off into space; arms akimbo. Clementine waved him over.

“So, what do you think?”

“I don't know. Doesn't seem like the kind of person Lilly want. Not with that walk and that stuttering. I can't even imagine how he 's survived this long by himself. Maybe he used walker guts to get around. Whether he's Delta or not let's take chance it. Tie him up downstairs until I come up with something better.”

“What about everyone else? What about Vi?” Louis recoiled under the glare he received from Clementine.

“I'm at the point of not fucking giving a shit! Apparently everyone feels like questioning my judgment now! How about you? Nothing stopped you guys from trusting me before so why now?! HUH?!”

The more she spoke louder her voice got. Lou raised his hands in submission and took a step back.

“I got your back, Clem. You know that. We're just scared is all. Including you.” Clem let out a sigh knowing he was correct that she was indeed scared, scared for them all. She had Omar and Aasim stand guard as Louis marched their captive down the steps leading down to the basement where he was left bound hand and foot to one of the ventilation shafts that went to the school's boiler. It was also brought up that it would be advisable to keep Rosie away. The former headmaster's pit bull had been napping during the interrogation and was the only one unaware of their newest addition. 

Since some had appeared to be less than pleased about bringing the stranger back to the school in the first place democracy would determine their best course of action. Or so they hoped. And democracy failed. The final vote was three votes to just kill him, three for kicking him out after he healed. Omar abstained, much to everyone's annoyance. AJ was unable to decide. Willy was most keen on Vi's idea of giving Abel something to snack on. With the vote seemingly deadlocked they would just have to take Ruby's route: sitting on their hands, waiting for the man heal in a day or two at most then they taking another vote. It wouldn't be surprising if some of them tried to sway one another to their side of the issue, Omar and AJ in particular.

Until the stranger healed, Clem proclaimed that all activity beyond the walls was to be restricted to within their trapping area. The fishing shack was deemed off limits due to the fact of it's isolated location. Being so far away from the school anything could happen an no one would be the wiser. It was also brought up that the hunting grounds were just as isolated but it this was countered by the argument that fishing in the last few weeks hadn't been fruitful enough to warrant the effort. Instead they would more effort on their trapping and hunting. While one team would hunt while the another team would build and set more traps. The each team were to be armed at all times while hunting team would have Rosie supplementing their security. One person inside the walls would have the responsibility of giving the man his daily meal. Food was already in short supply and this was of two concessions that Clem did make for Violet. Albeit, she only made the concession knowing the man wouldn't remain with them long enough to seriously impact their food supplies. It would be up to Ruby to make the decision as to when the man would be cleared for release. He would then be escorted to the 'safe zone' and sent on his way just as Clementine and AJ had once been before they bumped into Abel a blast from Clem's past, Lilly.

This seemed to assuage the complaints from most of the kids. True, their movements were restricted, but they would be focusing their efforts on hunting and trapping instead of fishing, the man remained inside the school but remained chained, receiving just one meal a day. The team in charge of trapping would also construct new traps in addition to the ones that Louis had made years before. Trapping is most effective when you make a dozen or better yet, dozens of traps. This way the more traps set will increase the likelihood of catching dinner. Louis had ideas on some new traps in addition to spring traps he constructed before. He actually seemed quite excited about the idea of trying out his new designs and went so far as suggesting that he and Willy be the founders of Ericson's first ever Trap-Eeze Team. You can just imagine the groans, oaths and eye rolls this elicited, right?

On Day One of the new system's implementation roll call went as such: AJ, Aasim and Rosie out hunting, Willy and Louis or the 'Trap-Eeze Team' trapping, Ruby on watch, Clem busy in the headmaster's office fleshing out the work details and fine tuning further plans, while Omar and Violet set about working on removing the wreckage from the burned out west wing of the school. No work was needed in the greenhouse so it was decided that now would be as good a time as ever to fix up the school some what. 

Since the western wing of the school had burned down years before Marlon had initially wanted to re-purpose the damaged section but gave up due to a lack of the necessary tools and building materials. However now that Willy had pinched the raft from the Delta they now had the materials needed. Now came the fun part: moving all those supplies off the beach and back to the school by hand. The raft was loaded down with a plethora of stuff including pieces of sheet metal, stacks of plywood, rolls of chicken wire, pallets and many other items the couldn't identify. The Delta had the use of horses while Ericson's had manual labor. Some thought it may have been more prudent to have taken the horses in lieu of the supplies instead. Ultimately they were only able to move a portion of the supplies but they did uncover a cache of saws, hammers, various hand tools, several hundred feet of rope and various other odds and ends including the zip ties Willy had used on the prisoner. They hauled as much of the materials as they could by hand via a relay system, carrying a single sheet of plywood as far as they could before the next group would take over, so on and so forth. After one week this process had netted them a fifteen sheets of plywood, several pieces of sheet metal, what you do with sheet metal no one knew but they hoped to figure something out later. On their final trip to the raft they cam to discover the raft was gone and concluded that at last the river's current had carried it downriver. There were mixed feelings about the loss of supplies. It was better to have that to not have but then again the last week had left them all exhausted and left them with more splinters and blisters than they cared to count.

Back at the school, the second day of the Stanley's stay found it to be Violet's turn to bring him his daily meal consisting of a thin broth with an odd piece or two of rabbit in it. She descended the steps, cursing the mere existence of the man and to a lesser extent, Clementine; with each step downstairs into the bowels of the basement. As much as she detested the idea of helping this ass she duty bound to follow Clem and do as she was told. She just continued to reassure herself that fucker he gets well the better. Omar's stew was becoming more and more of a broth instead of stew of late now that their hunting and trapping successes had dwindled to near zero in the last few days. If their food supply didn't improve soon they would have to start rationing out food again or worse drawing lots to decide who goes hungry that day. Something that Clementine remembered all too well growing up. 

This had happened once to the school during one of the first years after the adults fled. Vi thought back to the miserable winter that had dumped with over a foot of snow in the courtyard overnight. Another two feet fell over the next few days as well. Of course the younger kids loved the snow especially those who had never experienced snow before. The snow was fun and all until food began to get scare and some of the kids began to get sick. With that much snow no one could go out and nothing could come in, including firewood. They had resorted to burning any unused furniture found in the classrooms and offices. Desks, cabinets, dressers, bed frames, tables anything made of wood that wasn't bolted down fell victim to the flames. Louis, for his part, had to practically chain himself to the piano for a day and a night to ensure that his precious didn't become kindling. They lost six kids that winter. In each case from they had to put down and removed from the school, buried in the yard behind the dorms. Violet had no desire to have that happen again especially when it came to giving this prick some of their precious food.

As she descended the steps she thought to herself. 

Figures. We barely have enough for OURSELVES and Clem wants to feed this piece of shit. 

She had toyed with the idea of sneaking him outside the walls and feeding him to Abel like she had previously planned but would help. Clem had somehow swayed Willy over to her side so he was out. That left Aasim. But his ego was still recovering from getting bitch slapped by Ruby so he wouldn't care to risk being on the receiving end of another one so he was out. She thought even contemplated flying solo but quickly discarded the idea. Knowing her luck the guy would scream bloody murder and kick the whole time throwing any chance of stealth out the window. Even if she knocked him out first she would be faced with the prospect of carrying him up the fifteen steps of the basement, across the grounds to the gates then out to Abel. If she had several days she thought it was doable but then she recalled how long it took the four of them just to get Abel outside in the first place. 

I could sick Rosie on him like Clem did to Abel. I'm sorry guys Rosie must have gotten lose somehow. Truly sad how Rosie fucked him all up. Serves him right. 

The idea of utilizing Rosie's services brought a smile to her face which quickly vanished when unpleasant odor hit her. She knew immediately what the smell was but it took a few moments for her to realize that she was not hallucinating. It was the smell of urine. As she reached the landing she turned and realized he had indeed pissed himself. The smell of piss and the sight of the wet stain on the man's crotch greeted her she dropped the bowl, shattering the bowl and spreading its contents all. Violet turned and stormed up the stairs and left in search of Clem who was at the moment helping Ruby outside the greenhouse clearing weeds away from the yard. Ruby spotted the irate blonde first and didn't even get the chance to warn Clem before Violet exploded.

“That useless mother fucker just fucking pissed all over himself!” Clem had her back turned and never saw Vi's approach. Only the pull of Earth's gravity kept Clem from jumping straight into the Stratosphere. As soon as she realized it was Violet and her heart returned to it's normal place in her rib cage she rolled her eyes knowing that this was not going to go well, whatever it was.

“Seriously? Damn. Did you feed him first before you stormed on over here?”

“Fuck no was I was going to!”

Ruby looked at Vi and with a conciliatory tone tried to diffuse what could be a situation that could rapidly get out of hand. 

“Well shit Vi, the guy still gotta eat. A course he gone piss hisself since we got 'im trussed up lika hog. Clem, at least untie his arms and give 'im a pot to piss in. We's gotta have one we can spare.”

“Well count me out. You two can kiss that ass hat's fucking ass. What else would you like to do for His Royal Highness? Give him a perm? May I suggest a manicure?” 

It was with colossal effort that Clementine did not blow her top at that moment but was close. She had spent a lot of time ruminating over what to do since she had first learned of the man showed himself. She also thought of all the shit she felt she received by some for letting him stay here, assigning people to certain duties each day, all the careful planning she came up with and how none of the kids gave her any help or any suggestions except killing the guy and wiping their hands of him. She had put up with a lot over the years, way more than anyone of them could possibly fathom, more than all of them combined, even. Since she was now handicapped and she often felt the need to validate her own presence at the school. If it wasn't for AJ she probably have given up right after waking up and realizing she was now a damned amputee. With what must have been her last reserves of patience she spoke slowly and succinctly, trying not to completely lose her shit which in the last 48 hours was getting harder and harder to do.

“Vi, you know I don't like having him here as much as you but he's not a threat to us. If you guys want him good and gone then you have to trust me. We'll give a bucket or something. Ruby tells me he only needs another day or two them he's history. Right?”

“That's right, Vi. If that moron Aasim hadn't beaten the livin' shit outta him he coulda been gone yesterday. So you's leave Clem alone and direct your 'tude at him not her!”

Violet then redirected her ire towards the redhead replying, “Fine! I will! But I'm not doing this fucking shit anymore, Clem! I'm not going to wait here for him to kill all of us in our sleep because you wanna play hostess to the Delta. If anything happens to anyone its on your fucking head! Got it?!”

Clem sighed, a wave of that familiar fatigue swept over her again. She shifted her weight onto one of her crutches and rubbed a spot between her eyes where yet another headache was brewing.

“Finished?,” she asked at last. 

“Shit no. You feed your new best friend because I ain't. I want nothing to do with him at all unless I get to slit his throat.” Clementine eyes narrowed at this latest challenge to her authority.

“You'll do as you're told. Just like everyone else.”

“Really? Well fuck you, Clementine.”

“You're more than welcome to take over for me if you think you can do better. I could use the break. You've done nothing but piss and moan about anything I been trying to do since he showed up. You took over after Marlon died then kicked me and AJ out but you were more than willing to let me take over when I warned you about Lilly ad you were more than happy to have me take over. Nobody but Mitch had a problem with me then so why you all of a sudden? Huh? Am I less worthy of your trust because of my leg? Is that it?”

“Oh come the fuck on, Clem! You being a cripple has nothing to do-”. It was at that moment Violet realized she fucked up. 

Clem stood rooted in place, mouth agape, as her mind digested the words that had reached her ears. It was a scene reminiscent pg the classic device in Hollywood where someone says something shocking and everyone and the universe comes to a screeching halt. The room gets so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The anger and rage Clementine had held down in the deepest recesses of her very being finally bubbled upwards, much like magma taking the path of least resistance as it makes it way up the magma chamber of a volcano that has laid dormant for millennia. The force withheld strong enough to wreck havoc upon everything in it's path.

“What...did you say?”  
So it began. 

“Clem, I....”

“You little bitch! You miserable fucking asshole! I'll-”. With every syllable her voice grew in volume and fury. The eruption that one would ordinarily expect to destroy all plant and animal life instead ceased faster than it started. Clem took one step forward, ready to knock the living daylights out of the source of the insult when gravity made it's appearance known and reminded Clem that she had but one leg. Clem's eyes bugged out as she fell forward, unceremoniously flat on her face. Both Ruby and Vi, mortified and aghast, ran to assist Clem up. Ruby was quicker.

“Vi, just git out of here. I got 'er.”

“But I...”

“GO! NOW!” She looked down at her friend but turned and ran off, not wanting to see the look on Clementine's face if she were to even look her in the eye. She ran for all she was worth to her room, slamming the door shut and plopped onto her bed.

Ruby helped her to her feet and bent down to retrieve the crutches. She looked up at Clem and saw something she had never seen before: Clem was crying. Not just crying but borderline bawling. The tears were the culmination of the lack of trust she felt, the perceived betrayal by one of her closest friends, the frustration of having only one leg after the hundreds, if not thousands of miles she had traversed, desperately staying ahead of the walkers. But Vi's words did ring true, one in particular. Running on a constant loop in her mind. Cripple. She was right. She was a cripple. A cripple and now the icing on the cake was now she was crying, something she hadn't done for sometime. As much as she despised the idea of crying she took in solace in the fact that she was bawling in front of Ruby instead of AJ. She had always done her damnedest to put up a strong front for AJ no matter how dire the circumstances. If AJ were to remain strong and confidant she must do the same if not more so. It would be hypocritical of her to tell AJ to be all of these things only for him to see her like this; weak, crying, a sniveling cripple not able to get back on her feet without aid. No, she could never let him see her like that. Would never. WILL NEVER. Still, the fact that this had been her first major row with Violet cut to the core.

It was Vi who defended AJ after he shot Marlon death when he came clean about his secret dealings with the Delta. It was Clem who opted to take the shot that prevented Vi from being taken by the Delta, resulting in being Louis being taken instead. It was Vi who, when she could have stayed at the school after aiding the others came back to look for Tenn, Clem and AJ. Hell, even AJ had chosen to save Violet's life over that of Tenn's, the first real friend he had ever made. The mere accusation that she would, even for an instant, compromise the well being; the very lives of any of the kids under her protection was an insult of the tallest order. They all had a symbiotic relationship between them all. Without them, AJ and Clem would surely be dead. Conversely, without her some of them would be dead, while the rest would become soldiers of the Delta to meet their end someday later perhaps in battle or at the hands of walkers. That is if Lilly didn't kill them first. 

Ruby lifted Clem up and handed over the crutches. Just as she opened her mouth to speak Clem anticipated her intentions and with a wave of her hand, indicated that she only desired silence at the moment. After wiping away one last tear and wiping the last traces of snot on to the sleeve of her leather jacket and taking a few moments to collect herself, gazing up at Ruby and with a voice still a little unsteady said,

“Rube, whenever Lou and AJ get back take him downstairs with a bucket of water, untie Stanley's arms and let him clean himself up, would ya?”

Ruby smiled, nodded and replied, “Stanley, huh? So our guest has a name now or is that wat you callin' 'im?”

Clem chuckled, “Yeah, Stuttering Stanley. Thanks, I appreciate it”

“Sure thing hun. C'mere.” With that the burly teen reached over and put Clem in a bear hug capable of cracking a rib or two. They then turned and began walking back to the school where Clem went to her room to lay down for a much needed nap and attempted, ultimately in vain, to forget all that had transpired.

Louis arrived back an hour and a half later. Together they carried out Clem's instructions. Clem granted Violet's wish not to help Stanley. Not that they were on speaking terms nor was all forgiven and forgotten between them. Instead she employed Aasim as go between. He was to tell Vi that until further notice, anytime Vi was scheduled to be inside the walls she was to switch with someone working outside. Violet accepted this punishment without complaint. Vi, for her part, felt absolutely wretched at what she said but felt unable to muster up the courage to apologize, much less look into the eyes of her friend, or for all she knew former friend. 

And Vi being Vi, dealt with the situation as she had always done before. She withdrew into herself as a means of coping. When it came to doing her chores outside the walls she kept a safe distance away from her work partner that day, speaking only when absolutely necessary, at meal times she would take her food into her room and eat alone. The only person she would really speak to was AJ which wasn't very often. When she spoke to AJ she felt that she was by extension, speaking to Clem. In a way it was easier speaking to him but the situation still felt totally fucked since she was sure by now he was aware of what happened. Which was true. It didn't take long for word of the day's events to spread like wildfire. Ruby told Omar,Omar told Willy, so on and so forth until word finally reached Louis. He was shocked and part of him was sort of relieved. Shocked at the blow up between his two best friends and relief that he wasn't the person responsible for spilling the beans. Had he been the gossip monger and Vi found out he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that the fiery blonde would introduce her meat cleaver to his testicles.

On the most part things very adjusted to this new arrangement. The odd walker or two had to be killed whilst they out hunting and trapping, Louis had finished his newest set of traps which worked fairly well, in particular his newly devised squirrel traps. Aasim in the meantime had seen the error of his ways and had gone so far as to approach Ruby as a means to apologize. She demanded that he apologize to Stanley, not to her, something which he flat out refused to do. Clementine told them both to let the matter pass and bury the hatchet before she threatened to bury the hatchet in Aasim's back just for the simple fact of being a douche. All seemed well apart with the exception of Violet's self induced exile when something unprecedented happened. 

That goofy bastard locked up in the basement got sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave some feedback. Id like to see what you think of this so far.


	4. Holding Patterns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to keep at least two chapters ahead before I post the next chapter. Hope to finish up the first drafts of the next two chapters soon.

_Never been sick a day in my life and yet here I am in this fetid sewer of a basement run by kids half my age._

The man's beaten and bruised body was suddenly racked with yet another vicious coughing fit which, leaving him seeing stars. He spat another gob of phlegm which landed near a faint blood stain on the floor in front of him which he had previously not seen before. He winced from pain the coughing caused which aggravated his ribs.

_ An aspirin. An aspirin. My kingdom for an aspirin..._

That beat down received at the hands of that Indian kid, Aasim he heard them call him, had left him looking and feeling like death warmed over. He sighed and sat back onto his make shift seat on the school's long disused boiler. He had no idea what it was he was sitting on but it looked like a seat, it held his weight and got him off that accursed cold stone and concrete floor. There being no windows little light reached him where he which also deprived him of knowing what time of day it was or even guessing what how many days had elapsed since his incarceration. Assuming that they were feeding him once a day he estimated that he had been inside the school for roughly a week or so. He looked up and followed the path of the ventilation arms of the boiler above him which radiated outwards like an upside down spider, spreading heat and warmth through the school. Or at least it that was it's original purpose. He adjusted himself further so as not having part of the boiler digging into his back. He turned and by squinting could just make out the manufacturer's name on the access panel for the boiler's pilot light.

_ Hm. HERA. The wife and sister of all mighty Zeus himself. Hey Zeus 'ol boy, how's bout a little lightning right about now for some heat. On second thought, forget I said anything. This antique probably has copper and my luck I'd get zapped myself. Prometheus would be the better play._

In retrospect, it could have been worse for the man known as Stanley. The punches were easy to withstand, there being more blind rage than power behind them. It was those savage kicks to his ribs which could really have done the most damage. One cracked rib could easily shift, puncturing a lung; causing it to collapse, followed by a couple days of intense suffering followed by death. Fortunately, the one acting as nurse, Ruby, had said she didn't think he had any. But considering that he was now coming down with a bug of some sort without so much as a Kleenex it was debatable which would be worse. It was unlikely they had any sinus decongestant much less some NyQuil or some such.  
  
Ruby and that silent kid with the dreads had initially trussed him up to one of the ventilation arms connected to the first floor. After having faced the disgrace of pissing himself for the first time since he was seven and that blonde's reaction, the other two had come down and at least had the decency to allow him to clean himself off and to wash his soiled pants. He was still bound but he now had more mobility. His hands were now tied in front of him while his feet were tied lose enough that he could walk, or more accurately waddle, if he wanted to move. Not the smartest idea in Stanley's opinion but then again these were kids. 

While he was still secured to the ventilation arm he had granted the added benefit of a six foot long leash. It made him feel more like a dog tied to a tree than a human being but his situation had improved so he wasn't going to complain. With this newest luxury his first order of business was moving that infernal chamber pot on the other side of the boiler as far away as possible. Not that he had used it much. He had urinated little which told him he was dehydrated which wasn't surprising. The amount of food he had so far received had also left a lot to be desired but that was expected. He made a mental note to ask for more water next time someone came by to give him his daily meal.  
  
Having tired of sitting he stood up and waddled his way towards one of the nearest shelves and brought down the first cardboard file boxes he could reach. Each shelving unit could easily hold eight of boxes at a minimum. That got him thinking. From his vantage point there were well over twenty shelves.  
  
_ Twenty units. Two boxes per shelf. Three rows of two. Six times twenty is one hundred and twenty plus looks likes there another alcove back there in the corner so there probably another sixty or so so that would make one hundred-...oh god I need something to do... Need input, Johnny 5. Input! Input!_

He grabbed the box and waddled back to his seat and plopped the box before him, hoping it contained something of interest. What met his nose and his sight was a box chock full of invoices, bills, newsletters, school stationary, emails between faculty and staff members of the school, quotes, spreadsheets and other office detritus. He grabbed one piece and saw it was an email addressed to a school administrator. He let the sheet fall from his hand and thought how preferable it would have been to be held in the library instead. Then he realized he left his library card at home.

_ Oh damn...._

Looking back at the contents of the box he realized he'd either go blind trying to read or at go cross eyed from boredom so he retrieved the piece of paper dropped earlier and folded it lengthwise. He then folded down the top right one corner. Then repeated the process on the opposite side. Before he realized it he had made a generic paper airplane. He gave a half-hearted throw and watched as the plane landed ten feet away. Knowing he could do better he picked up another sheet, this time an invoice, and folded another; this one a different design. This one flew further, the next one further still. A flood of paper airplanes designs he had made during his teenage years came back to him and within an hour twenty paper airplanes of differing sizes and designs were strewn about the floor. Having at last grown bored with diversion he sat back and in the near dark of his prison, closed his eyes and thought about all he had witnessed thus far. He couldn't deny it, he was most impressed.

His first sight of Ericson's Boarding School for Troubled Youth had been a pair of massive wrought iron gates the main gate which rose nearly eighteen foot in height, most likely for use for vehicles back when the school was functional while a smaller gate to its left, about dozen or so in height was the one in which they entered was used by the inmates. The pair of gates were the only access through a wall he estimated must be pushing fifteen feet in height and surrounded the school as far as he could see. With this formidable fortress it was no small wonder that they had remained protected against from walkers. On his way past Abel he had noticed the multitude of traps and snares that had been set up but was dubious effectiveness. Once on the grounds themselves he looked up at the flagpole positioned just off center of the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by a driveway with weeds poking up through the concrete where flew instead of Old Glory was a large white banner with “FUCK RAIDERS” painted in green. An even larger banner hung just above the middle two columns of the Admin building stating “LEAVE OR DIE” in letters four feet tall.

_ Classy place. The inmates running the asylum. _

It was those very inmates which truly captivated him. Once finished with his little ditty he pondered the inhabitants of this place, starting with those he first encountered on that first day, beginning starting with the one badly in dire need of an orthodontist. Back in normal life dentists around the world would have used that kid's smile as a Public Service Announcement to illustrate the importance of brushing and flossing. But with that being said for his age he was damned good with the bow. In this day in age, proficiency with a bow does more good when it comes to survival than a set of pearly whites. It was a miracle that the little bastard's arrow missed him. He also seemed quite keen to use violence as a means to an end and if left unsupervised he probably would have gut him 'like a pig'. Threat level assessment: seven.  
  
Next was the black kid with the limp. He didn't strike him to be the outdoorsy type and from what he gathered this one was in charge of the cooking. He hadn't seen nor heard from him since his arrival. Threat level assessment: zero. That Indian kid, Aasim. _Hoo-wee_ did this one have one helluva chip on his shoulder. The other two seemed to take orders from him for the most part which meant he was most likely older and enjoyed some level of authority in the ranks. Then again, he heard more than saw the kid get royally bitch slapped by that redhead which brought a barely concealable smile to his face, regardless of how much it pained him to do so. Aasim said nothing in his defense during the entirety of her tirade meaning he was a paper tiger when it came to a scrap. Threat level assessment four.

Then there was that redhead, Ruby. That angel of mercy. The mother hen. Mother Superior. Her amount of medical knowledge surpassed that of most people he had encountered in recent years. What was most impressive was her age which could not be that much older sixteen, barely old enough to drive. Under different circumstances she redoubtably would have gone into some occupation in the medical field, as a nurse or perhaps a physician's assistant. It also never ceased to bewilder him how he there always seemed at least one chunky survivor in any group you saw. That one survivor who looked like they never missed a meal no matter how scarce food was. Threat assessment level zero.

That silent kid with the dreads, Louis, was the only other kid to show him as much compassion and sympathy as Ruby. When he had felt Louis touch him he honestly did recoil in horror expecting him to hold him up while one of the others slit his throat from ear to ear. Something he had witnessed first hand not all that long ago. So when Lou instead but his arm around him and helped him to walk through the gates of the school he was genuinely taken aback. He never uttered a word but perhaps he was deaf. Anything seemed possible nowadays. Stanley recognized the basics of the sign language the kid used but the only sign language he knew was the gesture for 'sex' he learned from college. Threat assessment level one.

There was a little kid he caught only the briefest glimpse of when he had first arrived. He'd be damned if this one was any older than six meaning he was _born_ after the whole world had ended as they knew it. What a great time to grow up. Threat assessment level TBD.

Some of them were looked quite happy to feed him to Ericson's lawn gnome, the idea which came from that blonde. Granted, he was more of a redhead fan himself but when he saw those shimmering emerald green eyes he felt his heart skip a beat. Those eyes more than made up got her piss poor posture. Nothing a few days on a medieval rack wouldn't fix. But one thing even he couldn't look past was that _mouth_. Over four hundred _thousand_ words in the English language and it seemed impossible for her to form a single, solitary sentence without the use of the word 'fuck' once or twice, at a minimum. If a bar of soap were to magic appear out of thin air he'd truss her up like he had been and wash out that potty mouth. That day she brought down his food he observed she was absent her left pinky. Must be an interesting story behind that. She was the one hell bent on killing him via Abel. Willy wanted to gut him. The kids were rapidly turning into a set of poor hosts. Regardless of how much time he had left on this mortal coil he certainly wanted to get to know that blonde better. He wondered if she was single. _Hubba hubba!_ Threat assessment level nine.

But it was the ringleader of this circus, the maestro of the band, the Commander in chief, the Big Cheese, the Chairman of the Board, Her Eminence, Clementine; who most piqued his interest. Into those pair of almond colored eyes he saw something never before seen in someone so young, something rarely seen in people even twice her age. They had a different look about them. They were eyes belonging to one who had both been neck deep and seen some serious shit in their time. The look seemed right on the cusp, right on the very precipice of that famous 'thousand yard stare' associated with those who experienced extended amount of combat or other traumatic experience. Yet there was a firmness, a determined look to her which meant that while she was only a kid but with serious backbone. It was no wonder why the others gravitated towards this peg-legged chick. 

During his questioning each had more than adequate time to size one another up. This little _devotchka_, to use a term from the movie_ A Clockwork Orange_, was just one curiosity after another.

He very much doubted any amputee could have survived this long without their limb, a leg in particular, indicative of her losing said limb sometime during the outbreak. The fact that she only had one leg meant it was lost sometime during the outbreak. In today's world, inconsequential seemingly innocuous injuries such as a spraining of an ankle could be a death sentence. He recalled the death of the remaining member of his original group. They survived together for three months after they found that boat and watched the others picked off one by one. He learned how to survive from that guy, his name lost to history. He was just your average Joe who just happened to love his survival shows and SHTF, Shit Hits The Fan, stuff. Even claimed to a stockpile going back to the days of the Y2K scare before but had been unable to get to his storage unit because of the roads becoming clogged by those fleeing from the dead. Well, Mr. Survivor met his end by unceremoniously falling out of a tree and breaking his neck. Stanley then put him out of his misery. The first of many. As Kurt Vonnegut said in his novel _Slaughterhouse Five_,  
  
So it goes...

Having survived amputation was in and of itself extraordinary. Testament no doubt, to Ruby's ability as nurse and the perks of a perimeter wall helped too. On the other side of the coin while that wall made the school virtual fortress it also turned it into a prison. Regardless, the loss of a limb, especially for someone that young, must drive her bonkers. Not only that but having crutches being your sole means of transport was abhorrent even to him. As one who had spent their fair share of time in both a wheelchair and on crutches growing up. Now all she had to do was find someone missing their right leg and they could go shoe shopping. The mental image this left led him to chuckle which he instantly regretted as it prompted his worst coughing fit to date. Once it subsided, yet again seeing stars and head swimming, he cleared his sinuses and spat on the concrete floor.

“Ah, Jiminy Christmas. That's not good.”

He had just coughed up blood.

From the cold, dark expanse of the basement at Ericson's Boarding School for Troubled Youth, the same basement where one student and one member of the Delta had both died and reanimated, singing could be heard. A baritone echoed off the cool brick walls and the concrete floor,  
  
_ “Nobody knows the trouble I've seen. Nobody knows but Jesus.”_

Clementine sat atop the high backed leather chair that had once sat those who had served as majordomo to the boarding school over the years. Originally served to cup the corpulent ass of the former headmaster and namesake of the school. After his inglorious departure the torch of leadership passed to Marlon until his death at the hands of AJ. After AJ and Clem's banishment from the school Violet became the de facto leader until she ceded power after Clem's run in with Lilly and AJ's wounding whereby Clem ascended to the throne. 

She stood and limped her way to the balcony and peered out to look over her domain. It was over this very balcony where during the assault upon the school she and Abel had fallen over and Abel sustained the injuries which ultimately killed him. Her eyes wandered over the inner courtyard to the flagpole which still hung the banner, fluttering in the breeze, emblazoned with the words “FUCK RAIDERS”. It was Tenn who had made the banner even though he wasn't thrilled about using the word 'fuck'. Next, her gaze shifted to the gates stopping at the lookout tower where Aasim was taking his turn on watch. Finally she inspected the section of wall within her field of view and thought that it was that wall which had kept those kids safe from untold numbers of walkers for all these years. She looked at the length of barbed wire strung atop the wall, placed in an effort to repel Lilly's attack on the school, which some what succeeded. An island surrounded by a world of shit. Walls denote protection. Protection, safety and security. Then again, Richmond had walls and walkers still got in. They still got in even without Kate's help. Prescott had walls. Fucking Max and Badger. Glad their both dead. The Motor Inn. Fucking bandits. Glad they're dead too.

We all know our intrepid Clementine has never been one to balk before any trial or tribulation. Still, she was never able to forget all the times being 'volun-told' for any risky venture on account of her being so small. Like crawling through that duct work in that meat room at the St. John's Farm, or when she nicked a walkie talkie out of Howe's and gave it to Luke. Or squeezing through that window with Bonnie and Mike to unlock that door in order to fetch water jugs in that Civil War museum only to find the room occupied by a reanimated park ranger.

Luke. Poor Luke...the closest thing she ever had to a brother. Bonnie may have tricked her and the others and led Carver right to them but she had forgiven her. Mike, well, fuck that guy. The thought of those names caused her to picture the faces of the others from the cabin and their fate: Luke and Bonnie fell in that frozen lake and undoubtedly turned, Nick turned, Carlos was killed, as was his daughter Sarah, Rebecca turned, Alvin-  
  
“NO! Enough of this!”

Clementine banished the thought from her mind. More important to worry about the living and not the dead. It was just the idea that AJ's parents were dead and he was denied the chance to meet his parents. Clem had seen her parents. Seen them as walkers, years ago in Savanna, outside the Marsh house. No, it was better for AJ this way. No child should see their mother turn, any loved one for that matter. Nick once said he had to shoot his mom. Kenny shot Duck, his son. Later, Clem would have to shoot Lee.

“Dammit. You're not going to let this go are you, Clem?” She asked out loud to herself. Her subconscious answered.

_ Nope and you know it to. You shot Rebecca after she turned. Alvin traded shots with that guard at Howe's so he's probably walking around the Virginia woods right now. By the way, someone's knocking. You might want to answer that._

“Huh?”

Someone was tapping, tapping at her chamber door. The knocking woke Rosie who had been engaged in sleeping next to her chair. 

“Told you guys you don't have to knock!”

A half muffled “Sorry,” was heard, the voice belonging to Ruby. The door opened and Ruby, followed by Louis, entered.

“Still rude not to. Anyways, we's got ourselves a situation a'brewin'.”

Clem sighed, a sad look in her eyes, “Christmas canceled again?”

Louis, smiling, pointed both index fingers towards her. His way of saying “Correctamundo!”. To this Clem merely rolled her eyes.

“Worse, Ah'm afraid. As much as ah miss Christmas. Stanley's gettin' sick. Sicker than a dog. Sorry, Rosie dear.”

“Great.” She had no interest in hearing more but like it or not it she knew if had to so. She braced herself for what came next.

“Agreed. Lou here went down to give the guy his food when he saw 'im curled up lika ball all a'shiverin' like. Plus he's been coughing up blood. He ain't bin eatin' much. Jus been askin' for more and more water. I wager he gonna be comin' down with pneumonia if we don't do something right quick.”

The brunette rested her head on her forefingers in fatigue and then looked up to the ceiling, hoping against hope that the answers to all her problems was somewhere on the ceiling. Finding nothing she first looked to Louis, who had yet to speak, then back to Ruby.

“Suggestions? I'm spent.”

“Move him to Ms. Martin's 'ol office. There's already a bed, no one uses it. Plus the locks still work. Ah can-” Clementine cut her off abruptly.

“Fine. Do it.” Louis blinked while Ruby was taken slightly aback. They had discussed earlier how nest to go about how to break the news as gently as possible. Initially they expected a push back so when Clem quickly agreed to Ruby's request without complaint it took them both for a bit of a whirl. What they failed to realize was just how much of a mental toll the last few days had taken. For her part Clem was just glad that someone else offered something useful for a change.

_ “That went better than expected,”_ Louis signed.

Clem looked at Lou with just a slight hint of irritation in her eyes, “One of you better inform what's her name since she'll blow her top. You know. Violet.”  
.  
“Uh, that's the other thing, Clem,” Clem rolled her eyes.

“I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Louis threw his hands up in the air then added,

_ “Totally your words. Not mine.”_

“You two need to patch things up between ya.” 

Clem felt her mood sour further still, “And why on _earth_ should I do that?”

“Cause this been goin' on long enough. Sure, what she said was plum dumb and yeah she's been against letin' 'im stay here since day one but everyone else is on board now. You convinced 'im, hun. It just ain't healthy when Vi gets like this. It ain't good for none of us. Not after all we've been through. What she's been through. We've all grown up together and we've seen her like this before. Take my word for it. Please?

Clementine agreed with one thing Rube had said, as far as anyone could tell Vi had been the only hold out in the week since Stanley arrived. She wanted, no, _needed_ everyone to be on the same page right now. Damn if Ruby wasn't right. But there was one other thing: she genuinely missed her blonde friend. Reluctantly, she acquiesced.

“Fine then.” Even if her voice didn't sound it was refreshing letting Ruby have the ball and run with it. Now for Louis' turn. 

“We have a plan for that? How do we know she wants to even talk? Lou?” She smiled, relishing at the idea of the look of abject horror on his face when he was presented with an opportunity to put his money where his mouth was. To her everlasting disappointment Louis responded with a smile from ear to ear.

_ “Already got one.”_

“I hate you both.”

_ “Love you too, Clemster!”_

“Imma beat you.”

Violet found herself sitting at a school desk. A school desk no less which struck her as strange. Not the fact that she was seated at a desk, this being a school after all. No, instead it was the mere presence of the desk itself which left her confused. There was no reason for it. No explanation she could think of. To the best of her knowledge they had all been one of the first items taken to the match after the last of the adults took to the hills.

As if that wasn't weird enough she had no inkling as to where she even was. She knew it was somewhere at the school. Of that she was sure. All there was besides the desk was a single beam of light, like a spotlight from a theater or opera house, illuminating only the desk and herself. Well- her hands more specifically. There was no doubt that the hands belonged to her. This she could tell by the missing digit. The missing pinky. 

“What the shit?”

Sitting there, mind swimming, a myriad of questions she desperately wanted answered. Where am I? Where is that light coming from? Is this real? Am I..._dead_?  
  
_ Wait a minute. What's this?_

She saw rather than felt her hand reach down into the void that surrounded her and retrieved an object which laid hidden just to her right. In her hand was now a knife. Nothing special. Just your ordinary, run of the mill kitchen knife we all have at home. She looked at its steel blade, the cheap plastic handle. Just your typical, boring kitchen knife. Hell, it didn't even look sharp. She now realized that while the hands were, in fact her own, she had no control over them. Then came another realization. There was no sound, no smell, to this place. Wherever this was. It was as if she was on a movie set. Looking down upon what she knew to be her hands it was as if she was looking through the eyes of someone else, looking at _her _hands instead.

Now she started spinning the knife slowly in her hands.

For several minutes this continued, turning the knife over and over, running the fingers of 'her' hand over the smooth contours. Running a seemingly alien thumb over the blade of the knife to see if it was even sharp, yet feeling nothing, when suddenly a voice spoke.  
  
“Play the game.”  
  
“Tenn?”  
  
“Play the game.” It was the voice of Tenn. Yet the sound of his voice elicited no emotion on her whatsoever. As if the voice belonged to someone still alive, not the voice of someone long since deceased. One who is no more. One who has joined the choir invisible.

The next thing Violet knew the knife was in her good hand, tip facing downwards.

“Play the game.”  
  
She looked at her left hand as it laid there, palm down on the desk. Not moving. Not so much as a twitch. Before her brain could comprehend it some invisible force picked up her arm to eye level, knife in hand, and brought it down onto the desk, splitting the difference between her middle and ring finger.

“Faster.”

Doing as Tenn commanded the teen picked up the knife again, this time impacting between her ring finger and where her pinky used to be.

“Cheater.”

Now she backpedaled, striking between her ring finger and middle fingers, then the middle and index finger, followed by the index and thumb; right to left, left to right. Back and forth she went for several passes, each pass faster than the last until she sliced her middle finger clean off. If the desk itself was weird this was a new level of bizarre.

It didn't bleed. It didn't hurt. Not so much as a tingle or the tiniest hint of a pressure. It was as if she were playing with a prop hand but the severed finger looked real enough.

“Faster.”

Continuing on, now ring finger to index, index to thumb; left to right, right to left. Faster and faster. She played on, feeling nothing. The only thing she felt was the urge to do as instructed. To go “Faster.” The word repeated in her mind, over and over on a continuous loop. Stopping only once she severed her thumb. Just as with the loss of her middle finger. No pain, no sensation. Just..._whoopsie_!

“Faster.”

And faster went the knife as it traveled across the desk, spanning the remaining fingers. By now the desk was decorated by dozens of pits from the impacts of the knife. She continued to play, stopping once again when she cut off yet another finger, this time the ring finger. With only one finger remaining the knife was a virtual blur of motion as it traversed from one side of the sole surviving finger until it too met the same fate as the others and watched as it rolled off the desk to join the others.

“Switch hands.”  
  
Without complaint Vi passed the knife from her right hand to what remained of her left knowing full well the futility of the venture. The knife touched her palm and promptly off, striking the desk with a clang and a clatter.

“One more time.”

Clang and clatter.

“Come on, Vi.”

Clang. And clatter.

“Once more.”  
  
On the fourth time however, when the knife struck the desk, instead of the sounds Violet had since grown accustomed to, now a series of knocks. Knocks in some kind of sequence. Some rhythm. Something vaguely familiar. She was becoming more and more aware of her surroundings and still the knocking continued. 

_ What is that? A song? Wait...Fucking Mario Brothers? Louis?_

At the thought of his name her eyes snapped open and saw she was laying in bed. She sat up, looked around her room then down at her hand. Sure enough there was her hand with all four remaining fingers. She stared at the stump of her missing digit and poked it. 

_Ouch! Still tender.._.

“Fuck me,” She flopped back onto the bed only to realize that even though the game had been a dream the knocking was real and coming from her door. Since he was rendered mute whenever he wanted to announce his presence at a closed door he devised a signature knock. Heaven forbid he would just whistle or knock like a normal human being but then again we all know 'ol Lou has never been known to act 'normal'. Besides, he would be the one to tell you that normal is only a setting on your dryer. Louis told her the song was from some video game he played as a kid but Vi had no way of knowing. She was trailer trash whose parents could barely feed them, let alone have the money for such luxuries as video games. She decided it was best to get up and see what he wanted.

“Yeah, just a minute, Lou.”'

Slowly she made her way top the door of her room, room 417 to be precise, home for the last eleven years since her arrival and where she had lately been spending nearly all of her free time since the blow up. She opened the door and instead of seeing Louis with his stupid smile it was Clementine at the door. Just behind her could be seen a blur of leather and dreads flapping in the wind behind which flew down the hallway like a rocket. Clem whipped her head around and yelled,

“LOUIS, YOU ASSHOLE!”

Now that Louis had made a most non-triumphant escape thereby leaving Clem in a lurch; she felt exposed, now that she was on her own to confront her friend in the most unconformable of experiences between two friends. His plan went along flawlessly- for the most part. His idea was stated thusly: He would carry Clem on his back while carrying her crutches so as to convince Violet that it was just him who was there at the door. Once Vi was on her way that was his cue to let Clem down, get her situated with her crutches so once the door opened there would be no way for Vi to escape- at least that was the plan until he heard Vi's voice say, “Yeah, just a minute, Lou.” Once he heard her voice and her footsteps his instinct of self preservation kicked in and his courage failed him and he took flight. Never doubting that he would pay dearly for his transgression.

You are, I hope, aware of the expression “air so thick you could cut it with a knife”? No? Well, usually it's used to describe air which is humid or muggy. It's also commonly used in literature to describe the amount of tension in the air. In this instance, the phrase would be, _'awkwardness_ so thick you could cut it with a knife'. But I digress.

They stood there, each on their respective side of the door, avoiding eye contact; the door frame, an invisible barrier between two factions in conflict with each other. I bet if you listened carefully enough you could hear a mouse fart. Neither of them wanted to be the first one to break the silence. To be the the first to break, the first to show what could be perceived as a sign of weakness. Whomever spoke first would be the timid one. 

This was infantile. This was not negotiations between two countries, each desiring to wipe the other out of existence. No, this was just falling out between two friends, neither of whom knew how to open up dialogue between them since they didn't even know what thoughts were going through each other's mind. What was their mood? What were they each feeling? Resentment? Betrayal? Hatred? Clem obviously wanted to talk since she was at Vi's door but did that mean Vi would reciprocate? Vi had a theory as to Clem's motivations. Most likely telling her how useless she was and how dare she turn her back on the people she claimed were her friends. It certainly wouldn't be the first time someone had been demeaning to her. She grew with a lifetime of it. Her parents, teachers, even her classmates back when she was AJ's age all those times she came back to school after being sent home yet again because of head lice. Shit, even Minerva would talk down to her from time to time. Vi felt assured she deserved it, whatever was coming. 

At last Clementine grew weary of this Mexican stand off, realizing that if they continued standing in place they would no doubt sprout roots. This must end here and now. She had to speak her piece. This would be no ordinary speech but one that would enter the majestic halls of the greatest speeches in history. Greater than Martin Luther King Jr.'s _'I have a dream'_ speech, Lincoln's _Gettysburg Address_, Jesus' _Sermon on the Mount_, Moses giving the Ten Commandments onto the Israelites, Vladimir Lenin's _Power to the Soviets_ speech, or JFK's _'Ask not what your country can do for you'._ This would be the speech of speeches, the crème de la crème of oratory masterpieces, one speech to rule them all. Any and all who claim to possess even the slightest modicum of elocutionary prowess would bow before Clem from this day forwards. She opened her mouth and spoke forth,  
  
“Hey.”

“Uh...hey.”

“Can we...uh...talk?”

“Uh, yeah, sure...I guess. Come on in.” Violet back stepped and indicated for Clem to sit on her bed since there was no chair to offer her. Hers having been put up as an offering to the flame. Vi opted to sit Indian style on the floor across from Clementine. And there they sat. And sat. And - well...sat. Finally Violet had had enough.

“This is fucking stupid! Look, Clem, I'm sorry for what I said but I still don't like that asshole being here. I don't even like breathing the same air as that fuck. Me not wanting him here isn't a reflection on you. I _do_ trust you Clem but there's no way I trust that fucking guy. Not after all that's happened here. Not after...everything. Everyone...”.

She was surprised how easily her words and feelings came rushing out of her. Apparently the days of her self imposed exile and isolation had kept these thoughts and emotions bottled up, shaken and now with Clem's appearance that cap had been popped open. These thoughts and emotions she felt had rolled in her head without release for days, festering like an open wound, incapable of healing. Now that these had all be released, excised even, she felt the weight lifted of her. Weight pressing her down, making her stooped shoulders sag further. Now for the first time in days she felt capable of taking a lungful of free air. And it felt magical.

“I know that. But how can you still trust me when I told you he's not a threat? I spoke with him, Vi. Do you think Lilly would have let someone like him be part of her precious Delta? You've seen him. He couldn't win a foot race even if we chased him running backwards. You trust me but not my decisions? You can't have it both ways, Vi. None of us can. Not even me.” Having gotten past their awkward stages they had no difficulty making eye contact with each other.  
  
“I don't know, Clem. That's what scares me: I don't _know_. You knew Lilly from before none of us did. Shit, they took Minnie and Soph and turned them into fucking soldiers in some war. Then they came back for the rest of us. That shows that they'll take anyone. He could be just feeding some bullshit story like where he got those scars on his back. From what? A car accident? No fucking way I'm buying that shit for a second.” She did have a point in regards to the scars. That part of his story hadn't jived with Clem when she first heard it either. Even if it was from a car accident as he said surely he would have scars on his face and elsewhere. 

“Well, as to not wanting to breath the same air you might get your wish. Ruby and Lou just told me he's gotten sick and might had long for this earth. Just give a few more days and if he's no better then he's gone. Okay?”

VI nodded, “It's for the best, Clem.”

Clem sighed, a sad look in her eyes, “You're probably right.”

“And Clem?”  
  
“Yeah?” Violet rubbed the back of her neck, something she habitually did whenever she didn't know what to say or how to put her thoughts into words. Getting to her feet she began pacing around the room. After a minute of silence Clem could feel the thickness of the air begin to rise but had no interest in its reappearance. 

“Out with it, Vi.” Again with the rubbing of the back of her neck. Now Clem was getting irritated and it showed.

“Now, Violet.”

“Alright, alright. Fuck...shit.” At least now the pacing had ceased. She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and released it aloud, and prayed her voice would hold.

“I've told you before I've never been exactly a people person, right?” A nod. “But well-ah shit sticks... I'm sorry I called you a cripple. I don't know why I said that. It was a fucked up thing to say.” 

Finally a smile from Clem, “Maybe because I am.”

“Dude, don't say that.”

“What? Cripple? But I am, Vi. I'll never be able to walk without these.” Indicating the her crutches laying beside her. “It's just something I'll have to get used to. I'd much rather have my friend back.” At this Violet's got noticeably misty eyed and her voice began to crack. Her walls that had been built to protect her from others during a childhood full of abuse, neglect, and isolation which Clementine had successfully broken through all those months ago finally cam tumbling down like a game of Jenga. 

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Come here. Ruby would prescribe this.” The two friends embraced and held each other close. Within moments Clem could feel her friend's body quake in a series of violent but silent sobs. This in turn set Clem off. At least these tears were not tears of shame and humiliation unlike last time. Eventually they separated and each went about wiping snot from their respective noses and drying the last vestiges of tears from their eyes. 

“God I missed you, Clem.”

“I missed you too, bud. Now help this cripple track down Louis so I can beat the shit outta him. To this Violet laughed, the first time in a week and they left her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment at tell me what you guys think so far!


	5. Crysallis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I was originally going to publish this chapter after the New Year but a buddy of mine convinced me otherwise.

Imagine Violet's chagrin when, as the days went by, Ruby made it known that Stanley's health was indeed improving. No doubt a result of his convalescence in Ms. Martin's office. His tenure in the basement with little in the way of sustenance and exercise had sapped most of his strength. By the time they went to move him upstairs he was scarcely able to move under his own power. It took the combined efforts of Aasim and Louis just to get him up the steps from the basement into the upper hallway. Once out of the basement Stanley slumped unto the floor where he sat for the next half hour until he was able to stop coughing and catch his breath. The kids had no concept as to the effects of sensory deprivation has on the human body.  
  
At least on it was a beautiful fall day with nary a cloud in the sky when they brought him upstairs even though most of the windows in this particular section of the hallway had long since been broken and boarded up. Seeing his Stanley in such a wretched state caused him to truly take pity on the man he beat the royal snot out of days before. Aasim then untied him, to which Stanley was thankful. Now untied he was better able to move about. He rediscovered muscles long sense forgotten and unused over the past week. He felt a thousand times better and felt like singing but he lacked the energy and the enthusiasm for song. For all he had been through his greatest concern was that he may have suffered permanent brain damage. If he started singing Jimmy Buffet he would beg for death. 

It was with some difficulty that he accompanied Louis, Aasim bringing up the rear, towards the former nurse's office located at the very end of the hall, past the last of the student's dormitories where Ruby had just finished getting the room situated for its newest occupant.  
  
Not that there was really much in the line of accommodations or commodities to be made or had. If one were to give a Michelin rating in its current state it would redoubtably receive a rating somewhere in the negative digits. Basically it served as a place for three hots and a cot with the idea of a guaranteed hot meal being rather optimistic.

The room that served their former nurse was a nineteen by sixteen foot rectangular room located on the extreme end hallway in the eastern section of the school. This wing was occupied by the boys were as the western wing was dedicated to the girls. The office exterior came to an end roughly ten feet from the southern edge of the perimeter wall. From the window one could look out and see the central courtyard and the storm cellar doors. The doors were still unlocked as they had been since Clementine busted open the lock the night she exposed Brody and Marlon's betrayal to the others. 

Anywho, the office itself contained three royal blue leather beds each with a curtain suspended from a track mounted on the ceiling which served to isolate each bed from neighboring bed. Well, after years of disuse the curtains were gone and the leather of the beds had long since cracked and dry rotted but they were still relatively soft.

The only other thing long since torn down were posters that once adorned the walls and doors. Posters extolling the virtues of eating fruits and vegetables, drinking plenty of water, the importance of washing your hands, covering your mouth when you sneeze, the warning signs of a cold or the flu, a diagram of the human skeletal and muscular system and many others. Ms. Martin was always fastidious about locking her office and keeping the keys upon her person at all times since this was a school for troubled kids. The last thing she wanted was for some kid to get into the office and start swiping prescription medications belonging to the other kids. Until one day, a few months before her death in the greenhouse and long after the last of the faculty had flown the coup she had a brain fart and forgot to lock the door. When she returned she found to her horror all of her posters were gone. A student had found the room unlocked but was unable to get into her desk which held the key to get into the cabinets which the kid's prescriptions as well as all of her medical supplies. Having been thwarted in their attempt to open the cabinets the culprit took out their frustration by ripping down the posters and shredding them, leaving the remnants scattered upon the floor. When confronted none none claimed responsibility, unsurprisingly. Ruby suspected Mitch from the moment she heard what had happened but, as such, she had no evidence she remained silent and if Mitch was indeed the guilty party he took that knowledge to his grave. 

On the day of her death, inside the greenhouse, she ordered the kids who were with her to run back and fetch her medical bag. Since the office was locked she gave the key to her most trusted student, Ruby. From that day forth that key became her most prized possession and wore it around her neck, suspended from an old piece of shoelace twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for the past five years. Removing it only once: the day they assailed the Fitzgerald. It was with a heavy heart that after her mentor's death that Ruby entered the office and began rummaging inside the the desk where she located the keys to the cabinets. She then took over the responsibility of ensuring that the medications were dispensed to the proper kids and as each of those student died or was killed Ruby made sure to dispose of the pills so no one would find them them. Those same cabinets were stocked with your typical first aid supplies which the late nurse had gone to great pains to make last as long as possible. Thanks to the combined efforts of Ms. Martin and now Ruby out of all of the rooms and offices in the school the office and the nurse's station were the only places left relatively unmolested. 

Apart from the three beds and the remnants of the partitioning curtains little else remained in the room with the exception the cabinets, a sink; which hadn't seen a drop of water in years, the nurse's desk, and three orange backed aluminum chairs. Stanley was placed onto one of these green beds and was given a wool blanket which was the extent of what she was able to do for him, her supply of antibiotics having long since expired. All she could do now was to make him as comfortable as possible and hope his immune system was strong enough to fight whatever bug he had. Ruby was scarcely out of the room before she heard Stanley snoring softly. It brought a smile to her face to hear someone else snoring besides Violet, something which Vi had vehemently denied for as long as she could remember.

Life went on for one and all as they waited to see if their unwanted visitor would recover or if they would have to put him down, something Abel was denied. Every few hours Ruby would check on her patient, locking the door as she left. Now commenced that interminable waiting game which we all know so well. In some ways life had improved for all concerned. Everyone-well, for the most part everyone, had mellowed out about Stan's presence now that he was securely locked inside with Ruby in possession of the only key.

Unsurprisingly his health did improve. No doubt moving him out of that fetid sewer of a basement plus all that uninterrupted sleep. On the rare occasion he was awake of any length of time he racked his brain to remember when the last time he really slept was. After a few moments he gave up, rolled over to his other side and went back to his dream. In this one he was standing outside a building reading the Wall Street Journal and watched as he saw himself fall off the building in the third person. Bizarre.

While as his health may have been on the up and up hunting was yielding next to nothing and the pit falls were more successful in catching the walkers instead of food. On the other hand, Louis' traps and snares were truly coming into their own and Louis was sure to remind everyone lest they forget. In the several acres of woods immediately surrounding the school Louis and company had set more than three dozen traps. They may not be catching as many rabbits as they would have wanted but each time a new team went out they were retrieving anywhere from three to five squirrels per trip. Giving the hit or miss instances when it comes to the art of trapping these numbers were quite exceptional given their circumstances and skill set. With so many snares and traps to check it easily took two people- excluding Rosie- to check them all, reset any that were sprung, and bring back the fruits of their labors.

On the other side of the wall, it took the combined efforts and threats of great bodily harm by Omar and Ruby were finally able to teach Louis differentiate what plants were edible and what were weeds. Pickings, of late, had been slim in the greenhouse as growing seasons had finished for the year until the return of Spring. Aasim and Ruby were once again on speaking terms with one another but this advancement was offset by Violet getting hurt while taking her turn on watch when one of the rungs on their ladder snapped, causing her to fall several feet, flat on her back. Fortunately all she suffered was getting the wind knocked out of her and bruising her ego. They got around this by moving a picnic table next to the ladder so whomever was going up merely stepped on the table thereby bypassing the broken rung. If it was Willy or AJ's turn they would need a boost from someone, something AJ hated with a passion and grumbled as such, much to everyone's amusement. It was just another reminder for AJ that he was still little like Clem had once said.

Clementine, in the meantime, had spent time in her office trying to teach Rosie some new tricks with lukewarm success. Rosie learned how to 'give me paw' but after several fruitless hours of trying Clem discovered that pit bulls just weren't physically adept to learning how to 'dance'. She tried teaching Rosie to play dead but that effort lasted a New York minute when she realized what she was doing. Louis had mentioned the paper airplanes that littered the floor which made her think to had him bring up one of those cardboard boxes so she had access to some paper to keep her occupied.

Willy gave it the old college try in his endeavor to teach AJ checkers since everyone else felt they were 'too old' for that kid game. AJ got the general idea of the game but they were unable to find anything similar in size to use for pieces. It was at times like these Willy really missed Mitch. He could carve something for him in no time flat.

“Fucking Raiders.”

Since the nursing station was located just around the corner from Room 425, the one inhabited by Louis and Willy, Lou would occasionally stop by and visit Stanley in the off chance he was awake. They tried their best to 'converse' with one another during their first visit. One couldn't physically talk while the other wasn't really in the mood to so Lou proposed cards instead. It made for an intriguing sight. The stutterer sitting upright while the mute sitting bedside, another plastic chair to use for discarding. Stanley thought he was hallucinating when he asked if Lou knew how to play pinochle and indicated that he did. Stan hadn't played in eight years, not long before the world came crashing down. He thought he was the last man on earth who did. What Louis failed to mention was that he was familiar with the game, having played it a few times over the years, but after a few hands and some coaching he caught on. It refreshing to play a game other than Go Fish, War, or blackjack with the others. He used to play with Aasim but got fed up with what he claimed was Louis' inability to use consistent rules from day to day, an accusation with actual merit.

Regardless of how well things in general were going at the school in recent days there still remained the elephant in the room: Stanley was getting better and what to do with him when Ruby released him. Several times a day Ruby would check in on her patient and at the end of the day would give Clem the latest and the greatest. By now three days had passed since the move for a total of ten since his first appearance. Just earlier that day he had asked her permission to go for a walk which she allowed, albeit supervised. The walk down the corridor might well have been a marathon in his mind and by the time he two laps down the hall and back he came back to his quarters and promptly crashed.

The weather of late had turned colder over the last few days which led to a temporary decrease and, in some cases, full cessation of certain outdoor activities. One of the picnic tables was brought into the music room so they could eat indoors while Chef Omar continued to cook outside. Even lookout duty took a cut. Lookouts were posted only while the hunting and trapping parties were out in order to facilitate the opening of the gate once they returned. Once everyone returned watch duty ended for the day also. A more pleasant side effect of the temperature drop was Abel no longer smelled as bad.

Once the sun descended beneath the horizon there wasn't much to do for those inside until Louis suggested what they needed was a card time to brighten the mood. If he ever lost his cards he would most likely wander the school like a lost puppy. Since he had been playing cards with Stanley the last couple of days he had been on a pinochle kick of late he wanted to continue playing the game. An courtesy of Stan's coaching he couldn't be accused of screwing up the rules which meant he could try to get Aasim to come out of card retirement. Willy and AJ had no interest in playing while Ruby wanted to check on her patient before she joined. Clem recommended Euchre but as she began to explain the rules she realized in the intervening years since Gabe had taught her the game she had forgotten a lot of it. Just as they were about to call it quits Aasim asked if he could choose the game. The players retreated into the music room where they lit candles and lit a small fire in the fireplace beneath the portrait of the former headmaster and Rosie. 

Aasim's game of choice: poker, no wild cards.

Louis had only one word about the game of poker devoid of the use of wild cards was to pantomime the word “lame” along with the rolling of his eyes. Each were familiar with the game to varying degrees with Aasim reigning supreme, where as Violet opted to sit out the first few hands and watch over Omar's shoulder thereby giving her time to get the hang of the game. Aasim dominated the opening three hands, nearly killing the group's enthusiasm for the game until Clemster broke his streak by beating Aasim's three of a kind with a straight. The next two hands went to Omar, and just prior to Ruby's return Violet won the first game she sat in on while Clem taking the following hand. These changes of fortune left Aasim miffed and Louis to declare shenanigans as he had been unable to facilitate even a single winning hand. He continued to grumbled even after he was reminded that playing cards was his idea in the first place.

It was Vi's turn to shuffle and as she did so she looked to Ruby and asked, “So what's the word?'

_"The birds the word!”_

“Dude, just quit talking.”

Ruby looked around at them all, knowing each were anxious to hear her answer, “Welp, he's gettin' better. Reckin' gettin' 'im outta that basement and some bed rest did the trick. I'd wager two, three more days tops he'll be rarin' to go.”

_"He should stay.”_ Even Violet could figure that out.

“Absolutely not!”

Clem shook her head slowly, “Not happening, Lou. We decided this from day one.” Out from left field Omar spoke up,

“I think he should stay too.” With a speed like that of a bullwhip, five heads and five sets of eyes snapped towards his direction. Vi, with an incredulous look on her face. A common enough feature the last week and a half.

“Oh my fucking god.” Omar said nothing. Merely shrugged.

“Well, at first the food situation was a concern but with increasing our number of traps it's beginning to pay off. Granted, we're catching more squirrels, which; I might add, are not easy to prepare nor do they taste good. But they are making up for the lack of rabbits. As long as we keep having success trapping and keep getting a rabbit or two every so often I think we'll be good.”

Clem continued to shake her head, “No. In a month or two, shit...even in the next week or two we could be looking at snow. We won't be able to hunt because of the snow so how are we going to find our traps? How much snow do you guys even get here anyways? Back home the most we ever get was a light dusting. Here you guys probably get feet of snow.” Lou whistled to indicate he wanted Clem's attention.

“This isn't our first winter, Clem.”

Now was Ruby's turn to chime in, “That ain't the point, Lou. We had food and supplies after all them adults split. Yer right Clem, we've gotten plastered here in the past. Only reason we had enough to get through each winter was 'cause there were fewer and fewer of us each year...poor dears. What say you Aasim? You's been quiet as a church mouse.”

He was lost in contemplation for a few seconds, “I could get used to it.” With that Clem couldn't take it anymore. Just when she began to feel her blood pressure return to normal this had to happen. What shitbird came up with this card game idea anyway? _LOUIS!_ Aasim saw Clem was about to blow a gasket when he held up his hand,  


“Hear me out first Clem, please. I said I could get used to it, but I was going to point out, like you said, that we already discussed and settled the matter. We all questions, Clem got our answers and now we give him his walking papers.

Louis then played his trump card.

_“AJ 's down with it. We talked earlier.”_ Dammit, Louis....even without a tongue he still managed to talk himself into a world of shit. Remember earlier when the music came to an abrupt, screeching halt? Well it just happened again, only this time air raid sirens were sounding as well. It was high time to un-ass the area, meaning evacuate. NOW!

“Fuck what?!”

“Seriously Louis? You idiot!”

“Yo, not cool dude.”

“Why on earth would ya do that?”  
  
Only Clementine remained silent. A single at her face was enough to tell you that what was on her mind. Her face was a shade of scarlet none present had ever seen before. There was no time for our dear 'ol boy Louis to find a hole to hide in before Clem picked up one of the crutches and began making violent stabbing motions at him. He was nearly out of the danger zone of his beloved who was clearly out for blood, namely his blood, when the crutch connected with the back of his hand causing him to cry out in pain. Clem found the sight of his pain much satisfying which calmed her down enough to address the rest.

“I can't believe you fucking people! Any of you! I practically had to beg and plead with each and every one of you to bring him here in the first place! What in the actual fuck?! NO,” looking to Ruby she continued, “Rube, once you say he's good enough to travel he's gone, ghost, history, taking a powder! Pick one! I don't care! Read my lips: Still. Not. Staying! Period! End of discussion.”

With that she stood and took her leave in search of AJ. As Clementine left the room Louis began gathering his cards while Violet applauded slowly with a sarcastic “way to go” look on her face. Louis promptly flipped her the bird.  
  
Meanwhile, AJ was in his room, oblivious to the sparks that flew a scant hundred feet away in the music room. As he sat he thought how it had been weeks, if not months since he had put pen to paper, Tenn's supply of paper having long since dried up. That was until Louis uncovered Stanley's assortment of paper airplanes and AJ helped himself to a handful of sheets from Clem's office. Those planes found a new home decorating the top of their shared dresser. It made for a nice addition to Clem and AJ's room since the flowers and Venus Fly Trap that once graced the room had long since died. He was fascinated by those simple folded pieces of paper. No two were alike. Some were similar in design with only minor alterations. Some were long and slender, while others were short and squat, some were rectangular. One even had a wingtip folded up the opposite wing folded downwards causing it to spiral in flight. This was his favorite. Once Stanley got better maybe he could show him how to make it. 

Louis had approached AJ the day before to talk about Stan. He asked the little dude what his opinion was about the guy. AJ confessed he didn't really have one since he was expressly forbidden to see or talk to the man. As far as AJ was concerned he didn't seem dangerous which made him OK in his book. No reason why he felt that why, it was just a gut feeling he had and the importance of going with your gut was something he had been taught to trust. Since Clem had talked to him it had only served to reinforce the opinion that Stan meant no harm to them. Besides, the guy sounded interesting. AJ liked the paper airplanes plus Lou had been telling him about all the time they had been spending together playing some card game called 'pee-knuckle', a name which AJ found truly funny. As much as Louis had suffered at the hands of the Delta he seemed to be most at ease around Stanley so that counted for something, right?

He was putting the finishing touches on his latest drawing, a self portrait depicting the day he caught a squirrel in a trap he built by himself. Just as he was adding color to his irises the sound of Clem's steps reached his ears. Her pace seemed quicker than usual which was strange. She opened the door and in a voice so loud that it startled him, scattering colored pencils onto the floor.

“Alvin Jr! What's this shit I hear about Louis and you talking about Stanley?”

AJ relaxed and waited for his body had return to its skin and as it did so he turned and gave Clem a disapproving look, “Swear.”

“Can it, AJ! What exactly did he tell you?” It had been sometime since she had been this mad at him for something. Her tone and the question itself left him puzzled for a few moments before recognizing what she meant.

“Oh. He asked how I felt about him being here. Said you thought he was cool and that you didn't mind him being here. Something about maybe you'd let him stay here. Why? Did I do a bad?”

The answer did nothing to please Clementine. If the crutches were bearing her weight she would undoubtedly be standing there, arms crossed as she spoke.  
  
“No, AJ. I said nothing about letting him stay! I don't know how that idea got into his head but I'm royally pissed right now and he's on my shit list now. Letting him stay here with us permanently was never an option. I have no idea what magical world of make believe Lou is living in.” Walking into the room she sat down on her bed while AJ rose and sat next to her. 

“I don't get it. You said he's not one of Lilly's people. That means we're safe, right?” There had to be a way to explaining the situation so AJ could understand it, but how? She hoped her answer would suffice.

“Just because I don't think he's one of Lilly's people doesn't mean I want to be responsible for another mouth to feed. We've been lucky these last few months, kiddo. Real lucky. We're safe with the system we have and with these walls protecting us. It was stupid of me to bring him here in the first place. I don't want to take and unnecessary chances and I shouldn't have, same reason I decided against contacting that caravan we saw. There's no way to know if they're good or bad until it's too late.”

“Well, Louis said Omar and Ruby and even Willy are cool with it. Why aren't you? That should mean something? What's the harm? Remember they let us stay. Even after I killed Marlon.” Clem's sighed. Becoming more pissed as time passed, trying to focus her anger at Louis instead of AJ. She had enough to worry about without Lou confusing AJ. He loved the man dearly but she was the one who raised AJ from birth. Not him.

“That was way different. You got shot and I had to warn the others about Lilly. Plus, last I checked I was in charge, not Louis. He needs to be reminded of that.”

AJ countered, “I thought we all get a vote?” Clem shook her head no.

“No, AJ. You're still too little.” AJ was hurt and clearly offended. He rose from the bed and stood before her, arms crossed.

“Wait a minute! Back at the cave you said I could make my own decisions and I chose to shoot Tenn to save Violet! Then you got bit, then there was the barn! I had the dookies for weeks! Ask anyone! Go ahead! They'll tell you!”

She had been told how AJ dealt with Tenn's death and her being laid up in bed, on the verge of death. It hadn't been pleasant. She shuddered to think what it must have been the others to witness AJ staying in their room, bawling his eyes out day and night, refusing to see anyone. He even exploded at Violet when she dared to enter the room. She anticipated that AJ would expound about the barn and tried to undermine his defense.

“Yes, and you didn't keep your promise but you saved my life at the barn but then you were looking out for both of us. Now I'm responsible for everyone, including you. Disagree all you want but Stan's gone and that's final. I don't like the idea of Lou talking to you about him behind my back. He has no right to do that.”

If AJ was mad before he was Grade A pissed now, “That makes no sense! What's a bigger decision than killing someone to save someone else? Tenn was my first real friend!” He suddenly got quiet and looked down at his little feet, “Do you ever think about James and what he said in the cave about me? I do sometimes.” With this Clem had it. She rose from the bed, snatching her crutches as she did.

“No! All I care about is how he tried to take you from me! I'm done arguing with you Alvin, Jr. I promised everyone we'd send him packing and that's exactly what I plan on doing! Goodnight, AJ.” She turned and left before she heard a response or even a comeback from her adopted son knowing it would surely lead to more arguing. AJ broke his promise that he would shoot her if she got bitten but didn't and that was a one in a million chance that worked, maybe even one in a billion. She had no such luxury to take such risks. AJ took one helluva gamble in which everyone benefited from but now she was in charge of seven kids and in her experience one had to be cautious, as well as smart, if you wished to see your next sunrise.

It turned into yet another day she desired to spend time away from everyone. Up to the office she went, about the only place of refuge she had access to. The only place she could where she could hope to get away from the trappings and bullshit of being the boss. But who was she honestly kidding? They could still find her. Pester her. The only other place of solitude was up in the bell tower, a place she had only been to once, just before the attack. Spending time with Violet gazing up at the night sky. Since no one had offered as yet to build an elevator she was outta luck that would never happen again. Since that night Clementine always had a sneaking suspicion that Vi had a crush on her. Clem was unsure how she felt about it. The idea she had a crush on her was cute but she saw the blonde as one of her dearest friends. Additionally Clem had, by that time, fallen head over heels for Louis, not just because of his goofy sense of humor and his zany antics but also how he got along with AJ. If she ever got emotionally involved with anyone she and AJ were a package deal. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Once she was well enough to move around freely a bed had been placed there inside the office the event a nap was called for and her strength waned. Spending hours on crutches can really suck the strength out of you. Then Mr. Sandman comes a-knockin' and room and bed is still a thirty minute walk away but might as well be thirty miles. A bed was scrounged up and placed inside the office for Clem's sake so on days such as these she shared the room with Rosie who still had her own mattress for as long as Clementine knew her. 

Ruby released Stan from his sojourn at the nursing station the following day. Granted, he was still very weak but his cough had largely subsided and he felt human once more. Unbeknownst to him Ruby had recommended two more days before he was escorted to the safe zone and went bye bye .

Alas, as the quote goes: A man prepared is a man hurt by delay. Just when everyone thought life would finally be able to resume its normalcy walkers began to infiltrate their turf in numbers never before seen in recent memory. Eleven days spent arguing, cajoling, bargaining, convincing, even begging to convince the others to see things her way only to have walkers take a huge dump on her plans made Clem want to rip her hair out by the roots. It was enough to make you curse anything you suspected sought conspire against you whether that enemy was real or imagined. Just get rid of the guy and we can bring all things within these walls back into equilibrium, back into balance. All would will be grand. The birds will whistle in sweet harmony, happy unicorns will prance the fields and rainbows shall spring forth. Is that too much to ask? Yep...

Walkers were first discovered in the outer reaches of the trapping grounds, forcing Omar, AJ and Rosie to fall back to the school but not before dispatching six walkers, with many more not far off. If this sudden reemergence of walkers was bad enough then the disappearance of Willy was damn well catastrophic in comparison.

At nearly the same time that Omar, AJ and Rosie had their encounter with the dead Willy and Ruby had their work cut out for them when walkers were seen to encroach on the hunting grounds also, in even larger numbers. As the pair made good their exodus Willy attempted to vault over a fallen tree like a track and field star over a hurdle. One foot found terra firma while the other found a rock the size of a fist, causing his ankle to go in one direction while the rest of his body went the other. By the time he was able to scramble to his feet Ruby was long out of earshot, unaware of his absence. 

He now found himself alone, surrounded on three sides by walkers who just now took notice of him. Thinking quickly he hobbled as fast as one can with a bum ankle and scampered up the first tree he could climb that would also support his weight, in this case a Virginia pine. While it didn't act as perfect camouflage but it was better than trying to outrun a herd of this size. He couldn't even remember the last time he had climb so far up a tree. Looking down he estimated that he was a solid twenty five to thirty up but then looking around he discerned that no matter how high up he would never be high enough. They were everywhere. Dozens of them. Some walking in the same direction, others not. Unknown to him they were coming up from the South, not that it mattered to him from his vantage point. All he knew was that he was stuck up a tree the better part of a mile from home and something...or someone had set the the walkers on the move.

The more he considered it a thought crossed his mind.

_James_.  
  
His group used to move walkers around. Hell, it was James who used walkers on the beach to create a distraction so Clem and the others could climb aboard the _Fitzgerald_. But that didn't make sense. Why would James suddenly decide to move walkers in their area after all this time? That and they didn't seem to be moving in the direction of the school. What the hell was going on? What did this mean? As far as Willy cared, at the moment at least, was that this meant if his luck held out he could make a run for it. All he had to do was be patient and hope his ankle would hold out when he made his move. He kept his fingers crossed it wasn't broken, otherwise he was toast.

Hours later the herd appeared to have thinned out enough to warrant a breakout. Retrieving the bow he left on the ground he quickly dispatched the nearest walker and by taking a page out of Clementine's book he cut open the walker and smeared its guts onto himself, barely able to hold back the desire to throw up. The injured ankle worked in his favor by forcing him to keep a slow and steady pace with out having to worry about drawing undo attention. As he limped his way home he thought about his appearance and his limp made him look like a walker. Hopefully no one would mistake him for a walker. But he was. Luckily for him Louis spotted what he thought was a walker and let loose an arrow. Willy was relieved to see that Louis' skill with the bow hadn't improved during his absence as the arrow sailed passed him wide left. He surmised that this was karmic justice for having done the same to James when they had first met.

Ericson's was host to a level of jubilation no before witnessed since Clem had awakened from her surgery. Willy found himself inundated by a bevy of high fives, hugs, back slaps, and even a big wet kiss from Ruby. He was relieved to be home and secretly glad he was covered in walker muck so none would be the wiser about how embarrassed he was by the sudden outpouring of joy and affection. Never before had he been the recipient of so much outpouring of emotion in all his years. At the moment he was interested only in washing off the guts and hoping to rid himself of the tree sap in his hair. The idea of cutting off his hair held no appeal. But his ankle wasn't broken and the tree sap did come off so all was well.

Well, with walkers once again on the warpath this meant getting rid of Stanley once and for all was delayed yet again. Delightfully, with Willy's safe return Clem's rage against the fates or whatever was responsible for screwing with her plans had abated. Waiting out the horde wasn't anything new for any of them, least of all Clem. However for the original residents of Ericson's they lacked Clem's level of experience and hadn't been stuck inside due to the horde in quite some time. 

Meanwhile Stanley, still blissfully unaware of their plans as pertaining to himself, was as happy as a pig in shit to be up and moving around after his incarceration. He considered spending a thousand thanksgivings with his former in laws was preferable to his experience thus far at the school. Having endured nearly two weeks bound, locked up or both he intended on taking full advantage of his new found freedom to explore the grounds. He had just walked into the Admin building and contemplated walking up the staircase to see where the stairs led but thought better of it. No point in pushing one's luck so soon after being paroled. Looking around and finding the coast clear he arched his back, cracking several kinked up vertebrae from his time spent hunched over. He let out a groan of satisfaction and relief.

“Ahhh...heaven...” He turned and began walking towards the door leading to the courtyard when something caught his eye. Squinting, he looked at a piece of graffiti that graced the wall beside the far left door scrawled in what looked like pink chalk was written the words,

_ SIMON'S DEAD_  
_ PIGGY'S DEAD_  
_ ralph's next_  
  
A chuckle, barely perceptible, was heard.

“Welly welly welly welly welly welly well. Appears someone read _“Lord of the Flies”_. Certainly a piece of required reading for this group of youngsters. No adults. Kids rule. Yes indeed dee do dah, the inmates running the asylum.” 

He smiled and walked the rest of the way to the door which he opened, slamming his eyes shit in reflex to the sudden burst of sunlight that assaulted the rods and cones of his eyes. Blinking several times helped them to acclimatize and as his vision cleared his gaze fell upon the set of massive doors which made of the main gate at the end of the drive he saw something that made him truly smile. It was something worth celebrating. It was the sight of something familiar. Something most worthy of smiling about. 

It was a bandanna. An olive and white paisley patterned bandanna to be precise, dangling there about eight up the main gate, tied around the wrought iron gate which constituted the coat of arms of their former headmaster and namesake of the school. He knew the person it belonged to but more importantly what its very being symbolized.

“They're here-ere.” With that he resumed the hunched back and inward facing foot of Stanley and stepped out into the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always leave a comment and let me know what you guys think! Thanks for reading! It may be some time before the next chapter gets released. I've been spending more and more time proof reading and rewriting as these chapters have gotten longer.


	6. All the World's A Stage*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * A line from William Shakespeares's play As You Like It. Seemed fitting for this chapter.

Stepping out he was met by the drastic temperature change between the school and the great outdoors. A shiver ran down his spine causing him to pull his shirt tighter around him to ward off the cold. It was inexplicable how his clothes were even able to stay on his frame based on their threadbare and tattered condition. The sole of his left shoe had disintegrated to the point where the heel was now partially detached with the two halves of shoe slapping together with each step. Even his shirt ha seen better days. While not in such deplorable state as his shoes several buttons were missing and in their stead were small knots of rope sewn onto the shirt. Be that as it may, little could be done to safeguard him from the cold. Thrusting his hands deep into what remained of his pocket he scanned his surroundings and spotted what appeared to be Willy atop the watch tower and preceded in his direction.

Having spent a fair amount of time with half of the school's occupants his objective now was to get to know the others. He had spent adequate time with Louis and Ruby during his convalescence and Clementine prior to that. That left chef Omar, Willy, that blonde – he felt his heart go pitter patter at the thought of her - and that little tike he had caught only the briefest glimpse of when he first showed up. On several occasions he had heard the barking of a dog, a big one at that. Most probably a pit, a revelation he found most disconcerting. Skipping introductions with that resident would be in his best interests.

_ Had to be a pitbull. Why not a tortoise or a killer goldfish?_

A dog lover though he may be, there was no telling how friendly or unfriendly the dog was, especially around strangers such as himself. Lord knows how well or even what they were feeding that pooch. 

On the brighter side, it wasn't a snake. He hated snakes.

Failing to see anyone else out and about he opted to begin by engaging Willy in a little chit chat and sauntered off in Willy's direction. As he neared the flagpole he stopped and kicked a loose piece of concrete from the drive and watched it skip across the broken and weed strewn driveway. Next, seeing a shard of brick he wound up and kicked it with all his worth - and promptly paid for it. His foot exploded into a whirlwind of pain as he realized, to the detriment of his big toe, that he lacked steel toed boots. Cursing his stupidity he hobbled over to a nearby clump of clover poking out of a crack. Easily pulling it from its home he searched in vain for a four leaf clover before allowing it fall to back to earth. 

“That's fine. Luck's changing for the better even as we speak,” speaking to himself as he took another gander at the gate and the bandanna which still dangled in place. It would be curious to know if it had remained unnoticed but decided it best not draw the spotlight upon it. It seemed doubtful being that it was the smaller of the two gates these primitives used when entering or leaving. Now that walkers were shuffling about no one seemed eager to head out. Even from where he stood a handful could be seen walking around aimlessly. 

With the pain in his injured tootsie starting to fade he gingerly walked towards Willy's perch. 

Willy had spotted Stanley's approach out of the corner of his eye, having missed Stan's run in with the brick, and groaned knowing he was moseying his way, most likely to chew the fat. Not that he didn't want to talk but he was still jacked that he had to pull watch duty even after all the shit he went through yesterday. But they couldn't afford not to. Even if the tiniest break in the walkers could be found and exploited it was worth the risk to sneak out and check traps or at the least grab firewood. By this point here weren't many walkers out and about just enough to make any full scale attempts to hunt and trap too hazardous and any movement outside would no doubt draw more.

“Hi there.” Willy gave Stan a sideways glance and a slight head bob,

“'Sup.”

“Heard you had quite the adventure yesterday.”

“You could say that.”

“That's some serious shit.” 

“Hey! Wait a sec! What happened to your stutter?” He suspected something was amiss, his bullshit detector beeping. Stanley anticipated this. Flashing a smile he replied,

“Oh that? Wuh-well I speak better when people don't wuhhh-wan't me dead. I see the dead are still moving.”

_ Well, no shit Captain Obvious._

“Yeah. They're still there. Probably for awhile too. Why? Want me to pop open the gate so you can shake hands with 'em?” 

Just as this little repartee seemed dead in the water Stanley's eyes fell upon just the topic to rejuvenate their discourse: the broken step. 

_ Bingo. _

“Wuh-what's with the table?” Willy looked down at the missing step, 

“Oh, that? Vi broke it a few days back. What's it to ya?”

With a shrug Stanley replied, “I could fix it for ya. You g-guys got a hammer?” Willy pointed in the general vicinity of the school,

“Should be one in the music room, I think. Wood's in the left side of the Admin. Wana make yourself useful? Have at it.”

“Much obliged. Think I will.” Minutes later he returned with the needed elements: a fiberglass handled hammer and a two by four and returned. Laying the board on the ground he eyeballed the desired length and marked it off with his thumb nail.  
“Should be a saw around there somewheres. You do construction?” Deep down, he hoped the guy did have some carpentry skills. Most of the purloined supplies either sat inside the hallway across from the music music hall, out of rain or burnt. If this prick could make something beneficial to the school, so much the better.

“Yeah, I s-s-s-saw one,” chuckling, “Pardon the pun. I've done my fair share over the years.” Hoisting the board over his shoulder off he went to the music room where he retrieved the saw and trimmed it to its desired length and made his way back. Looking at the broken step he contemplated how best to discreetly removing the nails: removing the old nails. The sound of squeaking nails can travel far and wide so to keep the noise to a minimum he removed his shirt and placed it over the broken board he worked slowly and methodically until able he was able to liberate all the old nails. He was even able to reuse the old nails. Now the real fun part began: replacing the step.

Holding a piece of lumber steady by oneself is bad enough, now imagine your back is bent. Now you can begin to fathom Stanley's plight as he sought to do just that. After enduring Stanley's endless stream of grunts, groans and curses reminiscent of someone fighting a losing battle with gravity. Willy grew weary of the noise and came down from his roost and helped hold the board as it was hammered into place. Since it was imperative to keep the noise to a minimum it took some time to install the replacement step but once finished they stood back to admire their handiwork. 

“Bitchin'! What else can you do?”

“Helped build some decks. Hung d-d-drywall. Some roofing. Remodeled my folk's kitchen. Bunch of odds and ends projects.”

They stood about for a few minutes continuing shooting the breeze when Willy saw to his dismay Violet coming to relieve him. Just by the way she walked he could divine that she was less than pleased to see Willy on the ground instead of where he was supposed to be.

“Fuck... Uh...hey, Vi,” embarrassed having been caught red handed. She stopped and crossed her arms, the glare upon her pale face never wavering.

“What the shit, Willy? Can't see much when you're on the fucking ground. And what in the actual fuck was all that noise I heard earlier? Are you stupid or are you trying to draw walkers? Seriously.”

Willy felt a wave of heat wash over his face. It could be either from embarrassment or the heat generated from Vi's glare.

“Sorry...” his voice took a sudden upbeat tone, “But look! We fixed the ladder! Now we don't need the table,” indicating with a wave of his hand.

“Yeah and every walker for a mile probably heard you two morons,” Stanley meanwhile, was off in his own little world, once again transfixed by those glorious, glorious emeralds.

_ Say something clever. Say something clever. Something clever._

“Me Tarzan. You Jane.”

_ Damn...._

It came as no surprise that the Tarzan reference clearly went over their heads. They were still kids after all. He had long since resigned himself to the sad fact that his brand of humor would be mostly be lost upon this motley crew of primitives, most of whom were half his age at best.

_ Oh well. C'est la vie._

“No one was talking to you, ass wipe.”

“Wuh-wuh-Willy helped with the ladder. It was only a few minutes.” Not that it made any difference to Vi how much time had elapsed.

“Seriously, just shut the fuck up you fucking creep!” Stanley put his hands in the air in surrender and took a tentative step back, half expecting her to lash out. Then did the unthinkable – he blew her a kiss. With that he turned and with a smile so broad it ached his still bruised face and luxuriated at the shocked expression Vi's pale face. It was a look similar to when you see your cat puking into a favorite pair of shoes or when a parent enters a room only to realize that the unsupervised toddler had discovered the many joys of a five pound bag of flour which now lays strewn across the living room.

With that he took his leave, the sound of Willy's in his ears. If ever there was an excuse to strut was now but since that was ill advised he instead began whistling _It's A Long Way to Tipperary_.

With Stan on his merry way Vi spun on her heel and with a scowl the intensity of which surely could melt ice, bore a hole straight through Willy, rendering him silent and wiping the smile from clean from his face.

“Fuck off, you! Go make yourself fucking useful before I knock you out! And take fucktard with you!” With there being no need to be told twice Willy took flight, feeling like a dog having been caught eating out of the trash. Stanley followed a few paces behind, feeling guilty for getting the kid in trouble. In an effort to cheer him up he quipped,

“Think she'd go out with me?” A chuckle. 

“Your funeral, pal. Probably cut your balls off instead of - ” A rock sailed through the air between them causing all talk to cease as they scrambled for safety, Vi's aim being better and thus deadlier than Ruby's.

The following day a sizable gap in walkers appeared, as if by magic. After a hurried powwow it was decided that a snatch and grab was worth taking, however brief. All would grab as much firewood whilst someone, Vi nominating Willy, went forth to check as many traps as possible before time ran out. This would be an all-hands-on-deck affair if they wanted to have even the slightest chance of being successful. There being no way of knowing if they would get a second chance. Only Stanley and Clementine were barred from going. Stan offered to chop what firewood they brought. However this offer left Clem with the short end of the stick, so to speak, since she was the only one left with nothing to do but to watch. He told her that limbs would need cleared and broken down into tinder and kindling. Further, it would require large quantities of wood for both cooking and warmth so any help with wood processing was needed.

This did squat to make Clem feel better. Until they all came back she was still just an observer. Those feelings of inadequacy and insecurity returned as she was again left behind to twiddle her thumbs while everyone else worked. The only comfort she had was now in his last remaining days there was someone to accompany her on the sidelines. Even though Stan couldn't go with them he asked for a favor. He ignored Violet who reminded him that they weren't running 'some fucking restaurant'. He asked, if they would be so kind, to bring back some wrist sized saplings about seven or eight feet in length. When pressed what for he merely smiled and said it would be a surprise. If they didn't like it they were welcome to burn it. With a roll of Violet's eyes and her refusal of a kiss for good luck they were off.

On account of there only being enough time to check traps for any snared rabbits or squirrels only one person was required. Any more than that would risk walkers so Willy rushed out and checked all he could and brought back his bounty: four squirrels and a rabbit from the eleven traps he reached. There would be food tonight!

As for the gatherers they found to their surprise nearly the entire southern quadrant of the hunting grounds devoid of walkers. Few walkers were around so they were able to make a decent haul before they too retreated. With any luck this opening might last long enough to send Stanley packing once and for all. 

But they had pushed their luck too far. All that activity outside the wire produced a sizable amount of noise and walkers once again descended upon them. The older kids took up covering positions while the younger and slower ones ran back, dropped off their haul in front of the gates which Stanley dutifully dragged inside, and raced back to replace the older kids who would then take back a their own load back. Clem, meanwhile, was a nervous wreck, having since begun to pace back and forth in front of the double gates anxiously awaiting for any sign of AJ. Once he made his first delivery she demanded him back inside to which he adamantly refused and disappeared back into the woods before without another word. Clem cried out for him and nearly made her way outside opened gate before Stanley grabbed her and lifted her unceremoniously in the air, kicking and screaming. Ignoring her profanity-laced vows of death and great bodily harm he carried the irate amputee over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before plopping her onto the nearest table and shouting at her to sit down, shut up and relax. If she thought he was going to retrieve her crutches she was sorely mistaken. Instead she flew into a renewed fury as he was seem chucking them onto the platform tower, leaving her no choice but to sit and hope that her precious little goofball would be alright. 

They were by no means on the verge of being over run but the process of carrying wood to the school, dropping it off only to haul ass back and repeat was taking its toll. Getting tired leads to mistakes it was mistakes that get people killed. They needed a new plan._ Stat._ As the adage goes: adapt, adopt and improve. Aasim was reminded of the leap frog system they employed getting the supplies off the beach and back. They would now use the same technique.

Stanley began moving further and further out beyond the gates now that Clem was safely indoors. He knew the group was on the verge of collapse as the tell tale warning signs of fatigue was becoming evident more and more on each kid's face with each trip.

Still they pushed on. They pushed themselves further and harder than any of them thought possible. Just as it felt they had expended the last of their energy reserves they finished. By the time Aasim, the last one out, closed the gates he joined his friends where they all lay sprawled pout on the nearest piece of grass gasping for air, too exhausted to move. They had done it!

Nary a syllable of protest was uttered when Stan suggested they leave the wood where it lay until later once everyone had rested up. In the mean time he would get a head start for them. Even Vi was too tuckered out to say anything. At the moment Clem and AJ couldn't care less. They were too busy holding each other tight, oblivious to Stan talking.  
  
Their gamble had exceeded their wildest expectations. “No bites,” as AJ put it. Now they had grub and enough firewood for the next few days and they managed to scrounge up Stanley's saplings. However, a riot nearly broke out as they had reassembled and were made aware of what crime Stanley had committed during their absence. They were half tempted to string him up the flagpole until he revealed Clem's impropriety which instantly caused the tide to turn in his favor. Ruby was the first to tear Clem a new one followed by the other. He assured all who gathered that he took no pride resorting to such drastic measures but she had left him no choice. Still, Clem stewed and raged. 

She despised being scolded her like some stupid kid, how she was more important to the group alive than dead, true though it was. Even with one leg she still felt more than capable to fend for herself. She had survived all kinds of shit. More than anyone of her friends combined, probably more than him! She could do anything! The hell did this goddamned hunchbacked mother fucker piece of shit know anyway? 

Well, it took Clem's friends to remind her that – uh...well – no she couldn't. there was no dismissing the logic behind his words and admonitions. Everyone else agreed with him, damn them – so she was forced to concede defeat. But all it took it took was one look at AJ's face remind her what she stood to lose if something happened to her. Gazing into those tear filled eyes was enough to cause to cast her hurt pride aside  
  
Now that Stanley had the desired saplings it was high time to set his plans into motion. First, he unraveled ten feet of manila rope into three strands then cut three saplings seven foot long, tying a timber hitch near the end of the first. To this he lashed the others together then weaved the rope in and around the three arms. Having done that he trimmed off some of the excess cordage off and made a few cursory wraps around the top, allowing the remaining cord to dangle in the air. Taking the working end of the rope in hand tied a foot long piece of wood in the middle and with a flourish presented his creation:

A tripod.

And crickets chirped.

A tripod, but for what they had no clue. Even if they didn't grasp what lay before them they did appreciate the tripod's structural integrity as demonstrated by Stan as he grasped the top of the tripod and lifted himself off of the ground and swung from it. He felt slighted that no one seemed to understand what he had labored over until finally Omar made the connection. It was not just a tripod but a cooking tripod. The piece of wood suspended from the end was a toggle which when placed through the handle of the pot would hold the weight of the pot. With the excess cordage the pot could then be raised or lowered to help regulate the heat. Omar was ecstatic.

This build would undoubtedly take him the rest of the day.

This project began with the construction of two wooden frames in the shape of the capital letter 'A', each 'A' starting as two saplings cut five feet long with a shallow angle cut at the tops and lashed together and at the base, several inches from the bottom, was cut a notch two inches square. A third, shorter piece had the corresponding notches cut into either end. All three pieces were then fitted and secured together. Once two 'A's were completed the first one was placed upright while the other was passed through, apex first, and secured. Looking at the unfinished contraption from the side it looked like a capital 'L' leaning at an angle. For extra support another stick was tied to the upright 'A' and stuck into the ground and at the wide end of the horizontal 'A' was placed a log split in two.

This project resulted in numerous instances where an hour's worth of work would be wasted as the project was reworked, tweaked and rebuilt only to be torn down once again. Looking down at his bruised and bloodied hands he vowed never again to tackle a project of this magnitude again, the result of many frustrations in making of his latest creation. A chair. If no one used it then he damn well was. 

Having had done enough work for one day he got up and tried to strike up a conversation with Vi. While he managed in keeping the butterflies in his stomach at bay but Vi would rather have a tooth pulled without anesthesia let alone give him the time pf day. Failing that he turned his attention to Omar who at least was engaged in using the cooking tripod for its intended purpose. Tonight's special: squirrel. Tonight's App: squirrel stew. Tonight's Soup Du Jour: squirrel stew. Tonight's drink: squirrel stew. And for dessert: a decadent Poire à la Beaujolaise.

Sadly, a walker had just eaten the last one so it was squirrel stew.

What Stan didn't know Omar was never much on company, particularly when he was in the middle of cooking. Cooking was not just schlepping a bunch of ingredients into a pot then boiling it for eighteen hours. No, instead it was a process which required deliberate and careful supervision to unsure that all flavors meshed correctly and each ingredient worked in perfect synchronicity and harmony with each other. Having another set of eyes only served to irk him. Having an audience was tantamount to being some scrutinized specimen under a microscope. Being watched served only to feed is feelings of paranoia that everyone he would conspire to poison them all by adding some unknown ingredient whose presence only he knew about. HAH! Like any of them knew the first thing about cooking. They would all starve if not for him. That people would dare second guess his culinary prowess. He had pondered many a time to let them all fend for themselves. That would teach them! Still, Stanley assured him that he had no intentions of questioning his skills. He just wanted to give his two cents. 

And his two cents was enough to make the chef blanch.

Things such as including the organ meat into the stew. He spoke of the nutritional value of heart and the liver for their vitamin and mineral content. Roughly mashing up the bones and the skull would allow both the bone marrow and the brains to impart flavor and nutrients into the broth. Seeing that this little tidbit made Omar seem like he could puke Stan reassured him that the everything was still being cooked, killing any bacteria and other pathogens. The leftover bones can easily be discarded afterwards. More importantly, they weren't running some four star restaurant in Paris. This was survival. There was no guarantee when and if there would be another meal anytime soon so one must make the most of the food on hand. Nothing must go to waste. Each squirrel only yields a few ounces of meat which doesn't go very far when it's spread out between half a dozen people or more.

He also demonstrated was how to cook an animal whole. This is done by first gutting the animal then running a stick through it, just like a kabob. Next came two rocks, one to elevate the animal above the fire, the other held the stick in place leaving your food to be cooked hands free; keeping you from being a slave to the fire. By rotating every ten minutes or so until fully cooked you now can make better use of your time maintaining your fire, stirring your pot or what have you. When thoroughly cooked the squirrel or rabbit can have the meat picked right off the bone, the leftovers saved for future use.

There were still doubts as to whether these survival tricks were being considered or not but at least some color had returned to Omar's cheeks. He might very well have converted the chef into a vegetarian for all he knew. Well, if it was too good for the kids Stanley had no such qualms. It had served him well countless times. Hell, he had made impromptu tea from willow bark and pine needles, cooking the contents out of an old fruit cocktail can more times than he cared to count. The idea of fruit cocktail made his mouth water, without pineapple, that is. He left Omar to his devices figuring his wisdom, a swell as his time, was being wasted. Besides, there still remained much to explore.

AJ was bored. _Really_ bored. Everyone else, at the moment, seemed engaged in some activity or another. He and Violet were scheduled to check traps but there was still some time until then. In the music room is where AJ had chosen to spend his time, pouring over the stacks of books which littered the floor. His original intention to practice his reading and pronunciation but just couldn't focus. Not only that but he swore, not literally of course, that each book was more boring than the last. 

Having long since given up any hope of finding the 'foot book', a book that would reveal the secret of how to construct a new foot for Clem. Since AJ had lopped off her original leg he owed her as much. Every book had been searched, perused, scoured and read for something, _any_thing pertaining to feet. The others didn't have the heart to tell the little guy he was pursuing a pipe dream. Having concluded all was lost AJ felt it just wasn't fair. Willy found a book all about boats and discovered that the key to a boat is its boiler. With that knowledge they placed a bomb in the Fitzgerald's boiler and blew the bastard sky high. If Willy could find what he wanted why couldn't he?

Clementine appreciated his efforts but preferred that he focus his energies instead on his reading. AJ was very keen on the idea but after awhile even Clem had to concede that many of the books were just too advanced for AJ, try as he might To be honest, many of the book's contents were even too advanced even for her. More than likely any books the school owned designed for kids AJ's age had long since been torched. The fact that any books still remained after all these years was itself miraculous. AJ was supremely bummed at not being able to pull through for Clem. He felt like he had let her down. However once he found that American Sign Language book for Louis and how his face lit up made all of those wasted days looking for that elusive 'foot book' worth it. AJ had succeeded in helping one person with a disability.

He felt himself getting smarter. Smarter all the time. As he once said to Clem, “ 'Cause I'm always thinking.” Which he was. Everybody said as much. As Ruby but it in her West Virginny speak, AJ was, “Gettin' much too big fer yer britches.” Having no idea what 'britches' were Ruby explained it was a compliment, a good thing. That he was growing up too fast for his own good. AJ couldn't wait to grow up. In his way of thinking waiting sucks. Sitting around and waiting for something to happen making him...

_ What was that word Clem said? Rest – rest – rest – LESS! Restless! That's that's it! See, thinking all the time! Getting smart!”_

Having grown weary of being...restless...he closed the book and rising to his feet, placing the book onto the stack, decided to go for a walk until Vi was ready.

His normal route would have taken him to the now closed greenhouse and back. Round trip would take half an hour. Once outside however, glancing to his right there stood Stanley in the cemetery, in front of the twins' graves. With Clem most likely napping he decided now would be the only chance he would get to talk with this most strange and elusive character. There was scarcely the opportunity to thank him for keeping Clem safe the previous day before she ordered AJ away. AJ wasn't quite sure why she was mad. She tried to go out alone. Rule number one: Never go alone. She told him not to break that rule then why did she break it herself? She made no sense sometimes. 

Maybe Stanley could teach him how to make one of those cool things out of paper or ask if he could help build something next time. With new found hope AJ walked to Stanley who at the moment seemed lost in thought and had no idea of AJ's presence until he spoke, startling him. This made good laugh for the little dude when he saw Stanley's spooked face. Strange how he seemed taller than before.'

  
Recovering from his shock Stanley let out a nervous laugh and patted his chest, “Oh, hey. AJ, right?” AJ nodded, “You s-s-s-scared the shit outta me.”

AJ crossed his arms and furrowed hi brows, “Swear.” After a moment added, “You said a bad word.” It still took a second or two before Stanley caught on, an indignant look came over his face as he put his arms on his hips,

“Wuh – what about Violet? I'm an angel compared to her.”

_ Touché._

“I don't know what an angel is but Vi's different.”

_ I'll says she's different._  
  
His expression softened into a smile and his demeanor changed, “I see. Favoritism. That's ok. B-b-bad habit anyway,” turning slightly he gestured with his hand at the collection of graves and asked, “Who's buried here?”

  
A wave of sadness washed over him as he thought of the names, faces and even the voices of those interned here. Some deaths he had personally witnessed. Some he had only heard about. Marlon's death which he was responsible for. He tried to make it a ritual to come by and say hello to everyone – well, almost everyone. Definitely not Minerva. Marlon he still had conflicting feelings about. Clem said he did bad things but he that didn't make him a monster. AJ wasn't sure what to feel. Marlon sold out Tenn's sisters, he killed Brody on accident but tried blaming it on Clem. He even took his gun and pointed it at everyone. How does that not make him a monster?  
  
On the other hand, AJ felt guilty shooting him. The events of that night still left him torn and confused. He did his best to atone, not that it accomplished much. They still got kicked out. Maybe Marlon did what he did to protect the others. But if that's true then AJ was no different than Marlon. He shot Tenn to save Violet. Which was better? In the end, were they even different?

“Kids who used to live here. Friends we've lost. It's a long story.” Stanley looked into AJ's eyes with a look of sympathetic understanding, took a seat on the grass in front of Sophie's grave,

“I've got time.” So AJ proceeded to give the cliff notes version of events leading up to the present day. How Brody and Marlon traded the twins to raiders, Marlon's killing of Brody then Clem having to put her down, ending Marlon's death at AJ's hands. Next, was the telling of Mitch's death at the hands of Lilly and Aasim, Omar and Louis being taken. Mitch was originally buried where he fell but had been moved to be buried amongst his friends. Not surprisingly this call to action was started Mitch's biggest proponent, Willy, who gave an empowered speech where he noted that it was wrong to bury Marlon beside their friends after he betrayed and deceived them all while Mitch, a hero, gave his life defending his home and his friends, whose remains wee allowed to lie alone. It was the worst chore any of them had ever to do but it was the proper thing to do. Willy alone did not complain and sallied forth as one by one the others faltered because of the smell.

He told how Sophie had died, not defending the Delta like a hero as her twin had told them, but had in fact been murdered by Minerva when they tried to escape, thereby proving her loyalty to her new home. Once off the Fitzgerald they met up later at that bridge where she was killed by walkers after being shot by Clementine and AJ was compelled to shoot Tenn, Sophie and Minerva's baby brother when he froze, horrified at the sight of his long lost sister's death. He summed up his narrative by confessing to not knowing much about Ms. Martin except that she used to work there, Ruby and Clem burying her remains next to the greenhouse. Ruby had since made a cross bearing her name and placing it opposite Brody's grave. That being said AJ finished the telling of their adventures.

Well – what he felt like telling.

He omitted as much as he told. Most details being minor in nature, of little consequence while others were monumental. Harmless though Stanley may seem AJ wasn't about to spill the beans everything. The biggest facts he opted to keep close to his chest was gunning down Lilly on Clem's orders. No one lost sleep over that. She was evil and had to die if they were to remain safe. The other fact he withheld was harder to deal with and reconcile: putting down Tenn. He didn't tell a sole. Not even Clementine.

At first was confused why Violet was flipping out at him. He didn't want to but he had to, he did it for her. How else was she ever going to see Texas II? Besides, Tenn's actions already cost Mitch his life and this time would surely have cost Violet her life as well. Tenn was AJ's first real best friend but he was weak. A liability. Weeks later during a spearfishing excursion with Rosie a walker appeared. It was Tennessee. AJ silently pleaded with his reanimated friend not to turn around, to continue on its way, away from the place he once called home, away from the ones he once called friends. But it did see AJ and started towards AJ who had no choice but to put the former artist out of its misery. Everyone still grieved over the loss of Tenn. Everyone loved Tenn. The idea of someone seeing Tenn as a walker was too much. They kicked him out for killing Marlon so what would stop them from doing so again? But all thoughts of this faded when to his immense joy he found Clem awake and walking, with crutches that is.

No, it was best to keep what happened at the shack to himself. With everything that went occurred that night aboard the _Fitzgerald_, the bridge, at James' barn – all of it had been enough of an emotional roller coaster, enough to make them all go prematurely gray at the very least. Clem had once talked about trauma and the trauma AJ had. AJ didn't like his trauma. Not one bit. Maybe the others had trauma of their own. Maybe everyone has trauma. It would be curious to know if anyone ever got over their trauma. And if they did, how?

AJ was surprised how easy felt talking with Stanley. He wondered why Clem wouldn't let him talk to him earlier. Seemed alright. He had never spoken so much about Tenn's death to anyone since that wretched day. Talking about it did feel good. Maybe that was one way you get over your trauma, talking about it instead of punching in the mouth like Clem said to do when you feel fear taking over.

During all this Stan sat spellbound.

_ Jesus, poor kid. Denied a proper childhood. Growing up in a world like this. But great gobs of goose shit! A kid not old enough to be in first grade but already has a kill count! _

“I'm sorry, AJ. The world sure isn't a fair place.”

“Yeah. Louis said the world wasn't that even before the monsters came.”

Stanley scoffed, “HAH! That's b-because he's been inside these walls. He's been institutionalized. All the kids have. They all grew up knowing almost nothing except these wuh-wuh-walls. The world is beautiful. It's people who suck. I've been all over this country. Even to other countries. Traveled by boat, train, kayak – y-y-y-you name, I've done it.”

“Have you ever flown? I mean, in a plane,” Stan smiled.

“Best way to travel. That and by train. There's just s-s-s-s-so much to do and explore out in the world.”

“I hope I get to someday.”

“I hope you do, kiddo. I hope you do. Make sure you take Clementine along.” At the mention of Clem AJ realized that he'd been gone for awhile and Vi was probably looking for him, 

“Well I gotta go Hey, you think you could teach me how to make a paper airplane?” Stan chuckled and reached into his pocket and extracting an origami crane.

“You got it. By the by, could you g-give this to Violet for me? Can't find her.”

Now it was AJ's turn to smile, “Cool! I know just where she's at! See ya,” he jogged off to locate Violet and give her the note. This time of day she was probably in her room so he entered the corridor and turned left down the hall to room 417 where Vi was talking with Ruby. The door was open but Clem said it was best to knock first before entering. It was just good manners. 

“Hey little guy. You ready?”

“Hiya, AJ.”

“Hey, Ruby. Violet, I was asked to give this note to ya.”

“Oh,” taking the crane she unfolded the note and read its contents – and AJ and Ruby saw Vi turn beet red and storm out of the room without so much as a word. She continued down the hall ignoring AJ's repeated entreaties, eventually throwing down the note. AJ stopped once he reached the note and picked it off the floor and read,

_ Can I have your number?_  
_ Xoxoxo_

_ – Stanley_

AJ scratched his head, “I don't get it.”

Meanwhile by the Admin, Stanley was about to enter when he noticed Violet walking at a brisk pace, obviously pissed, and surmised she read his note and divined that she had zero intention of giving out her number. Bummer. The spectacle led to a bout of uncontrollable giggles,

“Oooohhh, mercy! Definitely gonna catch hell for that!  
As AJ and Stan had been shooting the breeze Lou was toddling his way down to the music room to play his beloved Blackraven piano to help ease his mind while Omar was getting read. He was earlier taken aback when Violet flew past like a woman possessed unaware of the six year old struggling to catch up. He turned and watched and continued watch as the pair made their way to the gate and heard Vi barking orders at poor Willy as he stood watch. A brief exchange took place, Vi's angered voice drowning out any protestations by Willy until he seemed to give up and opened then closed the gates, resuming his previous post once they had left.

Lou hadn't the foggiest idea what that was about but knew better than to put his nose where it didn't belong. He was already in hot water. Well – to be totally frank, he'd never really been out of hot water this past week.

First he had turned chicken and baled on Clem and Vi, the two people he cared about most. It appeared that things had worked out in the end but he should have been there for his friends, even just for moral support. Who could forget the fiasco of the card game where it turned out he committed the unforgivable sin of talking to AJ about Stanley behind Clem's back. It had seemed harmless enough at the time but then again Louis had the knack of fucking things up regardless of his intent. Shit – even without a voice he still managed to talk his way into trouble. The bruises from Clem's crutches fading so there was a silver lining. The bruising to their relationship...well...let's be honest, for all he knew there might not even be a relationship left to heal. Since that night neither had so much as made eye contact with one another. Add to that all their woes and problems with Stanley, food shortages now let's throw hundreds of deadheads into the mix Louis was playing it safe and keeping his distance.

_ Smooth move Ex-Lax, REAL smooth..._

Resigning himself to the fact that he would doubtless forever remain a fuck up he arrived at the music room seeking solace which only music could provide. Taking a seat having placed his fingers onto the keys he instantly felt better. Picking a song from memory and began to play and felt the worries and the pain in his chest begin to fade, until is memory failed him, a common occurrence, didn't matter if it's cards or music. Books as far and wide as the eye can see, but nary a piece of music to be. 

Apart from Lou no piano player, nor musician, had graced these halls in years. Marlon never had a guitar and Minerva could sing but that was all. This tract he knew most of but there was that missing segment, those AWOL measures which eluded him which would connect the two disjointed parts together. He was about to call it a day when Stanley showed up. Leaning against the door frame and stood there, armed crossed, enjoying the sight and sound of Louis' playing.

“Can't remember the rest?” Louis grinned and placing one hand over his heart, the other in the air.

_ I cannot tell a lie. _

While not being able to remember the song sucked tuck it was good to have someone listen and not be critical about his playing. Pointing to Stan, then towards the piano, floating his fingers above the keys, indicated if Stanley knew how to play.

“Nope. Wuh-was always more of a bookworm. Looks like you've had some music critics living here.” Lou looked over at the graffiti etched into the wood of the rim, or side panel, of the piano which read:

_ You_  
_ Suck at_  
_ Playing_

“Bloody Savages.” Limping his way over and behind Louis he traced the letters carved into the fallboard with his finger. “Hmm. 'L' and 'C',” turning to Louis and cocking an eyebrow, “You and Clementine a thing? I mmm-mean an item.” The reply was a shrug and the twisting of his hand at the wrist indicting “sort of”. Louis and Clem had carved their initials that night, seemingly forever ago, when they confessed they had feelings for the other. It was a magical night for Louis having never felt that way for someone so completely. No woman had ever caused him to open up to them like Clem had, made him comfortable to lay bare his soul. It was the best day of his life at that point. Actually, it was the best day for a lot of them. 

Within the hour Mitch would lay dead and Aasim, Omar and as well as Louis would be in a horse drawn cart, on their way to the _Fitzgerald_, as prisoners of Lilly and her Delta cohorts.

“Cute couple. Mmmm-might not my business but why don't you talk? Your voice can't be worse than my st-st-stutter,” he recoiled as Louis stuck out what remained of his tongue, grabbing the place in the air where the end of his tongue would had occupied and with the other hand made a single chopping motion. A look of anger and an audible exhale of breathe left Stanley and his voice took on a hardened edge,  
  
“Dor –,” he expression softened and voice calmed, “Damn. I'm sorry Louis that happened to you. I really am...” Louis shrugged it off with a wave of his hand, just water under the bridge. Reflecting on his time in captivity accomplished nothing so he dwelt on it as little as possible so it came as a relief when Omar made an appearance.

“Louis, where the arrows at? Willy said you had 'em last.” Louis shook his head in the negative. “Fantastic. He said Vi and AJ left off in a hurry. Said she was pissed about something,” Stanley adjusted his halo. “What's better they left Rosie here too. You don't think Violet took them?” Again Lou shook his head.  
  
_ Doubt it. I'll get Chairles. Meet you outside._

“Mmmind if I stay here?”

_ Sure._

So Stan remained while Louis ran off to his room via the now cleared hallway to the right of the grand staircase of the Admin building. Clearing the hallway of the disused furniture and other detritus that had accumulated had been the major occupation the troupe had labored over while fenced in the last few days. Aasim and Rube were clearing the crap out of the hall leading to the girl's dorms, the north wing. Then they could salvage or burn what they could and open up the school, giving it less claustrophobic feel.

The chef walked outside where he was met by Willy and both headed for the gate.

“Any luck?'

“Says he doesn't have 'em says.”

“Bullshit he doesn't! Had 'em just yesterday. I'd know. Me and him just went hunting. Even saw him put the quiver at the foot of his bed.”

Omar let out an irritated groan. “Well they gotta be somewhere. Unless they up and – wait.” They resumed walking until Omar heard the unmistakable sound of piano playing reached his ears. “Seriously, Louis?”

“The fuck is he doing? Clem's gonna be jacked with Louis playing that loud,” Willy said grinning. Omar returned the grin with a scowl.

“That's not the point! We all have plenty of work to do and he's playing. Just once it would be nice if he'd grow up. What's your problem?”

Willy had stopped walking at stared off into the distance, mouth agape. Slowly raising an arm he pointed to the figure of Louis as he emerged from the dorms, Chairles in hand. Seeing them underneath the rusted streetlight which once illuminated the path leading to the Admin and jogged towards where the two lads stood rooted in place, dumbfounded. Going down the sidewalk and crossing the courtyard he made it halfway when his pace slackened, shocked look he was received. Feeling self conscious he wondered if perhaps an unseen booger was hanging from his nose. Just as he was about to ask the sounds of music reached his ears as well.

_ What the – _  
  
Willy looked at Omar, his eyes bugging out and spoke haltingly.

“That's – not – Louis playing...” 

The realization hit all three simultaneously as they beat feet in the direction of the source of the music. Louis, being the tallest, easily overcame the slower two as Willy and the chef lagged behind. Entering the Admin they clearly heard singing as well. Reaching the music room there shock was complete as they saw to their collective horror where only minutes before where they left Stanley now a different man sat, playing and singing his heart out.

“ – a little action in! Get about as oiled as a diesel train! Gonna set this dance alight! 'Cause Saturday night's the night I like! Saturday night's –“

The music stopped once the pianist realized he had an audience.

“Oh, halloa gentlemen,” rising from the bench,

“Can't begin to tell yinz the la-oohhhh! Great Caesar's ghost that hurt...” a kinked up muscle in his back failed to stretch, sending a sharp stab up pain coursing up his side. Standing gingerly from the bench he began stretching. First, by twisting at his waist several times and while conducting other calisthenics continued to speak, only now in a British accent, “I am glad to stretch myself, Watson. It is no joke when a tall man must take a foot off his stature for hours on end.” Once finished he stood to his full height. Facing them Stanley allowed the others to take their first glimpse of him. They knew if was him by the patch of white beard on the cheek but from the head down nothing was the same. 

Gone was hunchbacked stutterer with the lame leg. In his stead was a man nearly six feet in height, evidently well spoken and straight backed. Every facet of his appearance from the neck down was different. Had it not been for the white patch in the beard they would have sworn it was someone else. No, it was Stanley alright. The rags that had passed for clothes lay in a pile just behind the piano bench. The threadbare shirt and jeans replaced now with a pair of worn blue work pants and matching long sleeved shirt over top of which was a tan cargo vest decorated with buttons and insignia, the zipper long since broken, the zipper now replaced by buttons made of small knots made out of rope. The tennis shoes were gone too. Replaced with a pair of steel toes boot, each steel toe being partially exposed. But most worrisome of all was the fact that Stanley was now armed.

Gracing his left thigh was one wicked looking knife. A V42 stiletto knife to be exact. Modeled after the very one used by the First Special Service Force, a joint US/Canadian commando unit that operated during the Second World War. At one end was a thin, seven and a quarter inch long blade and at the other end, a skull crushing pummel. 

All this meant squat to the boys. All that mattered is Stanley was armed. He was straight up Delta. And they were well and truly fucked.

Having now limbered up Stan noticed that during his exercises the mood of the crowd made a one hundred eighty degree turn. Willy had drawn a knife while Louis now brandished 'Chairles'. Observing this change of atmosphere Stan frowned, and placing his hands on his hips and stated,

“Fine! Fine! I'll take requests!”

For several moments both parties stood silent, staring at each other. Without warning, in one fluid movement Stanley reached under his shirt and from a holster hidden inside his waistband, drew a Sig Sauer P226 and donned an isosceles shooting stance. His aim landed on each of them for only a split second before he flicked his sights to the next. While continuing to transition between his targets he continued, all pretext of jocularity having vanished,

“A nine millimeter travels at about twelve hundred feet per second. Who wants some? Drop 'em. Now!” Addressing Louis, “Drop – whatever the hell that is. Kick your weapons behind you.” Willy and Louis complied. Looking more confident that he felt against someone with a gun Willy spoke,

“And what the fuck are you supposed to be?” Studying Willy for a moment , obviously brainstorming how best to reply, lowering the gun slightly and using a slightly effeminate voice,

“Well, I'm a Scorpio. I enjoy traveling, anime and long walks along the beach. My ideal date is a two digit month, two digit day and four digit year.” The look of befuddlement that came over Willy's face obviously meant his wit flew over Willy's head, most likely the others also. Omar spoke next,

“What do you want?” Raising the gun and resuming his previous serious demeanor,

“That's enough questions for now. All shall be revealed in due course.” Pointing with his free hand to Willy and Louis, “You two, outside. Omar, if you would be so kind as to summon the boss lady, please. We'll be waiting at the fire pit.” The three lads about-faced and began going their respective ways before they were stopped, “Oh. By the by, Omar? Be a doll and be sure Rosie is locked up. If I hear so much as a sound belonging to a dog someone catches a bullet.” Omar nodded sullenly and mad his way to the staircase leading towards Clem's office while Willy and Louis headed outside, trailed by Stan a respectable distance behind them.

Once outdoors and indicating with his gun ordered Willy and Lou to carry a picnic table over as more guests would be arriving shortly. Both knew that Aasim and Ruby would their only hope of rescue now that Rosie is locked up and both AJ and Vi outside the wire, oblivious to what was happening inside. Each took up an end but Willy was only able to lift his end a few inches and only the strength to carry it a few feet before his strength failed. After several tries Stanley put an end to the endeavor. What he said next shattered their hopes and each felt like they had socked in the guts,

“Nevermind, nevermind. Willy, go fetch Aasim and Ruby and bring them to the party.”

“Fuck you! I ain't some dog!” This act of defiance had no effect except to raise the gun to chest level,

“Sticks and Stones, William. Sticks and stones. Now let's haul ass. We're burning daylight. And remember, no weapons.” Once Willy vanished inside the doors Stanley turned next to Louis and spoke in a softer tone, “Let's see if you and me can move this table. No dilly dallying. And don't give me that look. This needed to happen regardless what you all may think. I hope to convince you all. You guys hear me out and we all benefit. I assure you of that. And just between you and me, the gun is only to ensure compliance.”

They moved the table into place and awaited the arrival of Louis' cohorts. Once they arrived the ever growing crowd was addressed, 

“Welcome one and all to our little shindig. Now, for you new arrivals, if you would be so good as to raise your arms.” No one moved. He sighed, “This – this – insolence, will get us nowhere. Now, raise. Your. Arms. NOW!” At this last word his voice boomed across the courtyard, his order how carried out with must gusto, “Excellent. Turn ninety degrees to your left. And again. Once more. Excellent. Now to await Omar and your head honcho. In the meantime, sit and try to relax.” Ruby up looked at him, barely able to contain her tears of rage,

“After all I did for ya. After all we did for ya. How could ya?” A look of genuine sadness crossed his face.

“I know. Truly, I do. I'm sorry for the deception, Ruby. You are truly a testament to the phrase 'angel of mercy' and to that I am eternally grateful and forever in your debt.”

“If you're 'in her debt' you could repay it by tossing the gun,” Aasim said. Willy spoke next,

“Told you he was one of those Delta fucks.”

“Listen up – all of you. If my intentions were evil I would have long since killed you all. Beginning with you, Aasim, after that beating you gave me.” Aasim took a defiant step forward, fixing him with a glare of pure hatred.  
  
“I should have killed you when I had the chance.” Stanley ignored Aasim's stare and walked to the picnic table and sat himself down on top.

“And I'm sure you would have. And you would have been responsible for the deaths of yourself and your friends as well. Now, no more talk until Clementine gets here. We have much to discuss.” They would not have to wait long. Having observed Clem's comrades all looking in the same direction he looked to the Admin building and spied Clem emerging from the school with Omar a few paces in front. For the first time that day he smiled.

Holstering his sidearm and leaping to his feet,

“Ah,” clapping his hands together, “Wunderbar!**” Hands clasped behind his back, he closed the distance between them, the smile never wavering, 

“Clementine, I presume.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Wunderbar- German word for Wonderful  
When I first was initially coming up with ideas or this FanFic I pretty much WROTE the story centering around the piano scene.


	7. Strictly Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters, including this one, will probably be shorter with more dialogue. On the other hand, I'll going to wind up having more chapters before I'm conclude my story. As always leave a comment to let me know what you think!

The strains of music floated up to Clem's office, waking her up from a much needed nap.

_Fucking dammit, Louis..._

Unrolling the leather jacket she had removed for use as a pillow she pulled a section of it up and over her head in an effort to drown out the noise. While the music sounded more professional than usual at the moment Clementine was far more interested in examining the back of her eyelids. 

The day had already gone to hell in a hand basket when she had earlier been awakened and told that Vi had stormed off without taking Rosie with her and AJ. Walker activity had slackened enough that it was worth venturing out to check and reset what traps they could. Hunting was still a risky undertaking until Aasim made the discovery that by climbing a portion on the northeastern wall of the school thereby hooking around they were able to hunt the area encompassing the extreme northern edge of the grounds. Louis and Willy would be the first ones to take the first real crack at Aasim's discovery while Aasim would be working with Ruby clearing out more debris from the hallways, sorting through what could be repurposed and what could be burned. 

Still, the fact that Vi left without Rosie burned Clem's ass to no end. Rosie added an extra layer of security in case something arose while they were out. She would deal with that dingbat when they returned. 

Louis on the other hand – well, not only had he screwed with her nap, thereby putting her further into an already foul mood, but he was dicking around with that damnable piano instead of getting ready for the hunt as he was supposed to. She loved the man but damn it all if he wasn't the most immature person at the school sometimes.

_Next time there's a fuel shortage, bye bye piano._

A few minutes passed before the music blessedly stopped. Clem yawned, folded her jacket back into a pillow, and rolled onto her other side, promising herself another ten minutes.

She didn't get thirty seconds.

She heard someone, wearing concrete shoes, dashing down the halls in one helluva hurry, towards her inner sanctum. She prayed that maybe, just maybe, they'd rush past her office, forgetting where it is or better yet the intended target was one of the other rooms. Dread and trepidation came over her and she groaned as the foot falls were indeed headed directly towards the office. As the individual, who was on the verge of signing their own death warrant, got to the door and flung the door open, causing it to slam against the inside wall with a thunderous bang, startling both Clem and Rosie. It was Omar, his face ashen. “Clem! Clem! Clementine! Wake up,” and started shaking her by the shoulder.

_Mental note: make sign saying, “Go Away.”_

Clem continued to do her best log impersonation even as the shaking persisted. Seeing that shaking was getting him no where so now the chef switched to roughly tugging an arm.

“Come on, Clementine! You have to get up!”

_Maybe a trapdoor..._

“It's Stanley!”

_ ...leading to a pit full of lions..._

Finally relenting, she rolled over onto her side and out of one eye looked into the horror stricken face of the young teen, wondering what was so damned important. Probably lost his shit after dropping his favorite spoon into the pot or on the ground. Something stupid. But wait, why did he say Stanley? Many times during her time at the school she had been tempted to deck someone for one reason or another but this would be a first for Omar. Be that as it may, the sooner the chef was placated the sooner he could be sent his merry way and nap time could recommence. 

“Hmm – yeah, yeah, he's here last I heard.”

“He's from the Delta!” At that word Clementine bolted upright, wide awake. Every thought of sleep gone, her brain fought through a thick wave of confusion as it tried to process what was just said.

“What did you say?!”

“He's from the Delta! Been playing us the whole time! That was him just now on the piano! Got new clothes! No stutter, no limp!”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! FUUUUUCK! How did this happen?! Give me my crutches! C'mon, Rosie girl!” Omar's fingers had just touched her crutches when he heard Rosie's name.

“No, no, no, no, no, no! Don't bring Rosie! Clem – he has a gun...” 

Well wasn't that just fan-_fucking_-tastic! It was bad enough he was Delta but in addition from the Delta he was now armed. Things were rapidly spiraling out of control. She could just kick herself for allowing herself to be so completely hoodwinked. They had all fallen for his trip. Except Vi. She had been the only one to never trust the man from the get go. They should have listened and killed him right from the onset. Now they were all in mortal danger with their backs to the wall, the ambush complete. It had been mere happenstance that Clem had crossed paths with Lilly and had learned of her intentions to raid the school and 'recruit' the others but this time they were not granted such a luxury.

All of a sudden a thought came to her that turned her blood to ice.

What if he _intended_ to be found?

Found and brought to the school. Invading their home in broad daylight, right though the front door, no less. They had been duped into doing all the hard work while he played meek and feeble and with the patience of a Shaolin monk, waited until the right moment to strike. They had provided aid and comfort to a man from the very community that had sworn to destroy them and she had been the one to give the the go ahead to bring him here. True, Aasim started bringing him back before she had even made a decision but having divined her response. Nonetheless, it was ultimately her fault and hers alone.

And she had dropped the ball. Royally.

Royally...

“And just how in the actual fuck did he get his hands on a gun?! Wait – it's not AJ's is it?” The chef raised his hands and in a voice bordering between irritation and downright panic.

“What?! No, no! The fuck if I know where it came from! Louis and Willy are at my cooking station with him! I think he knows just about us except Aasim, Rosie, Violet and AJ.” 

Taking up her crutches Clem made her way over to her desk, opening the top drawer she reached in and retrieved her much used and abused Ka-Bar which had been a constant companion for the past five years. It had been some time since had last wielded the knife but as fingers touched leather she felt a surge of energy course through her, provided a much needed boost of confidence that would be needed when confronting Stanley.

Gazing at Omar and hoping to impart some courage onto Omar, and put on her game face.

“Well. Let's go see what he wants. Stay here, Rosie.” Rosie gave a dejected look, one which only a dog can muster, circled around on her mattress and curled back into a ball as Clem and Omar made their way outside.

Even from the doors of the Admin they recognized Stanley over by Omar's fire pit. He looked completely different from the hunchback they had housed these past two weeks but even from this distance that reddish beard was unmistakable. Clementine could sense all eyes converging on her as she walked. The man turned, smiling at the sight of the twosome. He watched for a few moments before walking towards them, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixated on her. 

_Cocky little shit._

They walked towards each other, halting once halfway between the columns of the Admin and the fire pit, a scant fifteen feet separating both parties. At last he spoke, smile never wavering, hands still behind his back. 

“Clementine, I presume. I've waited a very – very long time for this.” Clem fixed him with a steely look at this newest of nemesis. 

“Stanley.”

He seemed to ponder the greeting. “Yeah, about that. The name is actually Starbuck. I conjured p-p-p-poor st-st-st-st-stuttering Stanley. You're the one who provided my creation with a name. But, then again, who was I to correct you?”

“The coffee place?”

“Oiy.” rolling his eyes, “If I only had a dime every time I heard that. No. Star-BUCK. Singular. It's a character from the book _Moby Dick_. Ever read it?” Taking her silence as a 'no' he nodded in agreement. “I think you might like it. The bad guy only got one leg.” He wasn't surprised to find it failed to tickle her funny bone.

The three stood staring at one another, Omar standing behind and slightly to Clem's right. Neither Clem or Omar knowing what to say or what this guy wanted and since this man – Starbuck – was the one with a gun, the ball was in his court. 

A curious look crossed his face and cocking his head to one side, he spoke to Omar while continuing to stare fixedly at the rabble's leader. 

“Why don't you go and keep your amigos company, Omar?”

“Fuck you. I'm not going anywhere.” The gun was once again removed from its holster. With the gun's muzzle pointed at the ground the owner transferred it from one hand to the other as its owner's smile faded.

“That wasn't a request.” Omar looked to Clementine for guidance.

She gave the chef a reassuring nod. “It's alright. I'll be okay.” Omar, looking dejected, left and took a seat on the couch occupied by Ruby and Aasim. Once seated Starbuck turned his attention back to Clem and pointing a finger earthward, rotating it in a circular motion, indicating for her to turn and face her friends. Everyone held their breaths, dreading the worst. The woman who had led them to hell and back, their beacon off light in a world of darkness – was about to be summarily executed right before their eyes.

Clem closed her eyes and waited for the end. The end of all those years spent running, surviving. All the lives sacrificed to keep her alive all these years only to be shot like some unwanted dog. How anticlimactic after the life given she had led.   
  
On the other hand, part of her was glad for death. Perhaps there is an afterlife. That might not be so bad. Growing up her family wasn't terribly religious but recalled her mom saying that in heaven you're reunited with loved ones, meaning she could see her parents again. Not as walkers but as humans! Before they went away to Savanna. Maybe you look for others while in heaven? She could look for Lee! Her parents could meet the man whose guidance, wisdom and protection had sustained her all these years after his own premature death.

Kenny would be there, with Duck and Katjaa by his side. Well, hopefully Kat and Sarita hit it off. She imagined seeing the smiling faces of departed friends she longed to see again. She would seek out as many as she could think of. There were people like Luke, Pete, Chuck, Jane – well maybe not her, but Ava and Omid. All the people who had helped her along the way. Maybe Christa was there too. The mystery remained what had happened to her after being ambushed in the North Carolinian woods and after Clem fell into that river only.

There were still more people than she could think of. It was astounding how many people it took to keep a kid alive this long in a world like this. As wonderful as these hopes and dreams they were just that. Hopes and dreams. Tears began to flow as her thoughts shifted to AJ. 

_I'm so – so sorry, AJ. I failed you. I failed you my precious little goofball... _

A solitary tear hit the ground.

“Drop the crutches.” 

Clem's eyes popped open and spun around in confusion. “What?!” 

His expression clearly indicating he meant business. “NOW!” His voice echoing across the lawn, startling all present. 

“I am not fucking around, Clementine! Arms out!” Everyone dared not utter a sound, afraid of the consequences if any protests were heard.

The kids of Ericson's gasped or cried out in protest as Clem, dropping both crutches and began struggling to maintain her balance, arms outstretched. Starbuck advanced from behind and felt her blood turn to ice as a pair of hands lifted up the tail of her S.S.M.C. Jacket and began examining the waist. A bevy of oaths and invectives of all description were leveled in his direction, which were ignored as his hands continued their search. Clem felt her face flush with rage and embarrassment caused by the humiliation of someone's hands touching her body but being powerless to stop it. Before the injury she would have broken all twenty-seven bones in each one of his hands but now the act of just remaining standing demanded every ounce of concentration.

“Mother fucker...” 

A triumphant “Eureka!” was heard upon finding what he was searching for.

Her Ka bar.

He looked bored and – well – rather disappointed. “We can't have this this ladies and gentlemen.” Raising the knife overhead, “I may be a idiot but I'm no fool. For one, shame on you, Omar! Honestly, what kind of man,” waggling a finger, “hides behind a woman? I've also watched you work so I know when someone is left handed such as myself. With your dominant hand hidden behind Clementine and given your school's reputation I knew something was up. The eyes are the gateway to the soul but the hands are the gateway to the intent. Remember that. So what was the plan, hero? Look me in the eye then stab me in the heart, saving the day?! Face it, kid. You're no killer. 

Having spent this length of time on her remaining limb Clem felt like she was about to pass out. A bead of sweat had begun trickling down one temple as she began to wobble more and more the weaker she became from the exertion. Prior to today, the only time spent not on crutches was spent hopping short distances from one place to another. By now all the muscles in her leg was jelly and her arms felt like they each weighed a ton.

Now satisfied, Starbuck picked up one crutch and in a single, fluid movement, ducked under an outstretched arm, lifting her up slightly, and tucked it under the opposite armpit before softly setting her down. He relinquished the other crutch and indicated for her to be seated. After tasking two steps Louis could take it no more and leaping from his seat, bolted towards Clem and took her in his arms, kissing forehead and cheek alike before they shared a long, passionate kiss, her lips still tasting of tears.

_Are you okay?_

“I'm fine. Just need a seat.” Lou's eyes blazed as he looked back at Starbuck and mouthed “Fuck you”. A wave of relief overcame her once seated on the couch, Louis sat beside her and wrapping protective arms around his love and reassuring everyone she was fine. 

Starbuck now addressed everyone. “This is not how I wanted this to go down. I stand here before you with peaceful in –'' Willy broke the silence..

“By pulling a fucking gun?! Yeah, real peaceful, cocksucker!” Shifting his gaze to the interruption's source he continued, eyes glued on Willy.

“ –intentions. Aasim! Front and center!”  
  
When the order didn't facilitate the desired action, Starbuck looked straight at the Indian and gave the 'come hither' finger. Aasim rose and cautiously made his way until only a few feet separated them. The Sig Sauer once again made its presence known, causing Aasim to flinch as yet another series of shouts and protests pierced the air. So Aasim was the one to be made an example of.

What came next astounded everyone.

Without so much as a word Starbuck flipped the gun around grip first and presented it to Aasim ins surrender. For several seconds the lad stared blankly at the gun before finally grasping the unique opportunity fate had just dealt him. Snatching up the gun, he placed it to the man's forehead and pulled the trigger, bent on blasting the man into oblivion. 

CLICK.

Aasim's courage vanished like a fart in the wind and a look of terror and befuddlement overcame him as he continued to pull the trigger again and again.

CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.

Starbuck, for his part, resumed his seat on the picnic table and placed Clem's knife, as well as his own, out of reach at the far end of the table. The cause for the gun's failure to fire was explained by reaching into a breast pocket and extracting a loaded magazine, which was raised to shoulder height.

“Said I was no fool. Rest assured, I'll be taking that back once we conclude business.”

“And what 'business' would that be?” Clem asked.

“As I told Louis earlier, the gun was only to ensure compliance. After all the mischief you've caused I'll be damned if I let my guard down.”

“Bled you Delta fucks good.”

“Yes, Willy, you did. Which is what brings me here today. I've been engaged by my employer to act as emissary between –“

“A what?” Starbuck hung his head at this further disruption, forgetting he was dealing with a group of kids. Kids who undoubtedly have a limited grasp of the English language.

“Deputy, ambassador, envoy, go-between, delegate, representative. Pick your noun of choice, Ruby. My boss – wants a deal.”

“And what kind of deal would that be?” Clem queried.

“One that benefits you and your people as well as mine. In fact, benefits you more than me. Allow me to back up, if I may. I'm aware there was disagreement about bringing me here in the first place. Don't let Clem's decision reflect poorly on her leadership ability. That was a first rate performance on my part, if I may be so bold. Didn't even break character even as Aasim kicked the living snout outta me.” Rising from the table he began walking back and forth in front of the fire pit, looking at each person in turn.

“There were times where I nearly blew my cover, Omar being first. You were correct, I did recognize Abel. We wondered what became of him. You can imagine my surprise seeing him not only as a deadite but being utilized as a six foot lawn gnome to boot! That shit was great! Top notch! Bully!” 

“Deadite?”

“Oiy...” resting his head in his hands, “Geeks, lame brains, biters, zombies, the undead, lurkers, deadheads. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera! A million and a half goofy names. Always found the name 'walker' to be just lazy. That and I happen to be an Evil Dead fan. It was a franchise from back in the way. Way before your time, kiddies. But I digress.” 

He chuckled. “Actually surprised you didn't catch me, Ruby. Been known to talk in my sleep from time to time. Then we have little AJ over at your cemetery. Had he looked down he would have noticed the very boots I'm wearing. I mean seriously – how often do you really look at a man's shoes?   
  
“Damn near screwed the pooch by blurting out Dorian's name to Louis not half an hour ago.” Clem could feel Louis tense at the name. As punishment for his refusal to be quiet Armando held him down while Dorian lopped off his tongue and cast it overboard. Leaving one of Lilly's newest recruits a pitiable, bloody mess. Aasim and Omar sat helpless in their cell just yards away, forbidden to help or even offer words of encouragement, forced to endure the sounds of their friend's whimpering and crying as they waited their deliverance. 

Starbuck anticipated this reaction from Louis, “Like I said, Louis. I'm sorry what they did to you. I never would have allowed that. Never would I kidnap people and force them to fight in the first place. I don't believe in kidnapping people then forcing them to be loyal. That had never been popular with many of us of the Delta. To take someone from their home, their friends – ” he paused briefly, “their loved ones. Then train them to fight, giving them weapons, trusting them to have your back in a fight! I think not. You all trust Clementine because she's earned your trust, never demanded it as Lilly did.” 

He closed his eyes. “My real bone head move involved you, Clementine.”

“Me? How?”

Giving a lop sided smile, “Care to explain how a helpless cripple with a bent back is magically able to fireman carry all – what? Seventy – eighty pounds of you?” He paused, letting it sink in. “I wasn't acting then. I was genuinely pissed. To my credit, if I wanted you all dead why not just chuck you outside, lock the door and let the dead finish you all off? See, I wanted you alive.” He paused. “Correction, I need you alive. But not in the way you think.”

“Need, huh?”

“Yes. I did say need. I didn't stutter,” smiling at the irony, “like I used to. The dead are just intolerable when it comes to conducting business. They're not much inclined on compromise. To them it's all just “Me-Me-Me-Me-Me-Me! Nom-Nom-Nom! Feed me! Feed me!”

Aasim spoke first, asking the question on everyone's mind, followed by Omar,

“What makes you think we'd bargain with you?”

“There's nothing we want from you.”

Leave it to Willy to put their collective opinion of the Delta into easy to understand form as Ericson's second most eloquent speaker besides Vi. “Yeah! We kicked yer fucking asses once and sure as shit we'll do it again!”

This outburst was met with mock surprise and astonishment. “Such braggadocio, however misplaced it may be. Pray, tell me what weapons you would use? Knives? Arrows? Maybe spitballs?! And since I hid those arrows I found in Louis' room they're of no use. Who will fight? Your warrior princess currently finds herself on the disabled list.

He waved a hand in front of his face, as if swatting away a fly. “Dammit! Quit getting me get off topic! No doubt you had the opportunity to question our mutual friend before he shuffled off this mortal coil. What did he tell you?”

“Some bullshit about a community up north. He gave me a list of code words you used. Name of cities you used to use. Died not long after that. Fell off of that balcony when you attacked us.”

Willy stood, balling his fists, “And killed my best friend.”

“It's no bull. Abel was a lot of things...most not complimentary. One thing he was not was a liar. It's true. We are at war with another community and if you think our greatest sin is Lilly's practice of kidnapping kids, training them to fight? Hah! We're Boy Scouts by comparison.

The Ericson's OGs may have reason to doubt his word but not so Clem. While the others remained isolated, cut off from the rest of the world, she had witnessed, first hand, countless instances of how the breakdown of morality, as well as lack of food, brought out the worst in people. 

The first instance of evil were those of bandits who attacked the Motor Inn when they stopped receiving medical supplies. Then the St. John's, a pair of brothers along with their mother, owners of a former dairy farm who resorted to cannibalism in order to survive. Shuddering, she recalled the memory of everyone except Lee partaking in leg of Mark, a member of their group who had earlier been wounded by the same group of bandits. Instead of receiving medical care as they were told, Mark was instead relieved of both legs which were served as an entree to the others. Lee tried to warn the others of his gruesome discovery but had been too late and looked on in horror as Clem took a bite.

When the survivors of that group reached Savanna they learned of Crawford, a district within Savanna which practiced their own form of eugenics. This community strictly believed in to the idea of survival of the fittest. That meant kids, the elderly, people with preexisting medical conditions, women who were pregnant or became pregnant; were forbidden. 

Lee and several others slipped into Crawford under cover of darkness seeking supplies but found that Crawford, even with its rules and high standards, it too collapsed like many mighty empires and civilizations throughout recorded history.

A splinter cell of the New Frontier had been carrying out secret raids on neighboring communities under the very noses of the majority of their leadership. Richmond had been run by four people but unbeknownst to the others, one of their number had gone rogue and had been the mastermind behind the raids. Clem had been witness, as well as combatant, when those same people carried out a retaliatory raid against Prescott, where the gate was toppled and walkers released within. Javi's brother learned the truth but his attempts to convince the rest had been in vain.

Had anyone else besides Clem been in charge this prick would have been dead where he stood, Kenny for sure. The late Floridian always had a penchant for having a 'Damn the Torpedoes! Full Speed Ahead!' approach when it came to problem solving. Unfortunately the school was in no way, shape or form capable of forming an effective defense. Starbuck was right, they lacked the weapons as well as the manpower. The situation was well and truly fucked and despite it going against everything Clem stood for – they were out of options. Negotiating might be their best.

“So what does your boss want us for then?” 

Starbuck leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. At the same time the others gawked at the brunette, flabbergasted that she would even consider bargaining with the likes of the very people responsible for the kidnapping of the twins, the deaths of their friends and who tried to capture the rest. 

This betrayal struck nearly as deep as the day they learned of Marlon's treachery the year before. Louis gripped Clem by both shoulders and stared into her eyes.

You can't be serious?! A sad nod in reply stated she was. Starbuck cleared his throat.

“A business arrangement. The head honcho had time to examine Lilly's leadership and how she ran her show and found it somewhat – lacking. And knew he could do better.”

“So why go through all this if all you wanted was to 'make a deal'?”

“How long before you'd sic your dog on me? Thirty seconds? Ten seconds? The new boss is better. He's smarter than Lilly ever was.”

“Oh, is that so?” 

Starbuck nodded. “Lilly was an idiot. None of you realized it but you broke Lilly's precious rule. Never make her look foolish. She _hates_ that. You see, when you killed Yonaton, wounded Dorian, then captured Abel, you caused her to lose face at the Delta. And what did Lilly get for her efforts? Three little Injins? She could've been smart but decided not to let that shit slide. We want scouts. Scouts are just as important, if not more so, than soldiers. You see, distance buys you time – time buys you options. As Willy earlier put it so delicately,” indicating the youth with his hand, “you bled us good by blowing up our boat and killing my people. We no longer have the manpower to defend our home like we once did and,” pointing to each member of his captive audience, “neither do you. We've all been bled by Lilly's useless war. I'm here to clean up her shit and mend fences.”

He stood, holding up his hands in supplication. “My offer is this: Let use this place as a OP, an observation post. You patrol your perimeter and keep an eye out for any evidence of that community encroaching in this area and letting me know. I'll run a patrol through here from time to time. Allow them to crash overnight in one of the school's outbuildings, if we may.”

“And in return?” Aasim asked.

Starbuck waved both arms towards the woods to either side. “No restrictions. Hunt, fish, trap, skip, jump, and hop as far and wide to your heart's content. I know how hard food has been to come by lately. The locals say this could be one of the worst winters in these parts in years. I'll give you a few minutes to talk it over. However, I must urge you in the strongest of terms to accept. Regardless of what you think of me and my people, we need to work together if we wish to continue existing.”

Grabbing both knives and rising from the table Starbuck went for a stroll, allowing the Ericson delegation space to discuss. The vote the result of which could make or break both the Delta and the school. 

Ruby, Aasim, Willy and Omar stood and walked over where Louis and Clem sat. Clem reflected on the ramifications of the taking or the outright rejection of the proposal as she gazed into the eyes of the very people in whose trust they had placed in her. 

Slowly, she let out her breath and held her head in her hands while Louis rubbed her back. “It's my fault we're in this shit in the first place. If I hadn't been so dumb and just listened none of this would've happened. I'll go with whatever you guys decide.”

Omar stepped forward, “Clem...he tricked all of us. We all share some blame.” Clem smiled at the words but they rang hollow. 

“Willy?”

“Fuck 'im and every one of those fucking pukes! We fight!”

“Aasim?”

“We need the food. Winter will be here before we know it.”

“Omar?” 

Le Chef Omar looked down at his feet before answering. “Good offer but I can't trust him.”

Two against one.

“Ruby?”

“Ah agree. If all he really wanted a deal why all the runaround? Shoulda been honest from the get go. No.”

Three to one.

“Lou?”

Louis shook his head so viciously it caused his dreads to whip side to side. He stood to present his case, clearly impassioned. His speech poured forth like a burst dam, his mouth churning like a locomotive while his hands tried uselessly tried to articulate what he could not verbally. Instead of rational, coherent thought all that came forthwith were the sounds of a caveman. While his words may be lost their meaning was crystal clear. 

_How the fuck can we even vote? Vi and AJ are still out there! He doesn't know that! We need to give them time!_

“He's gotta know they're not here or will sooner or later.” Aasim quipped. “Shit, they don't know whats going on here. Even if they did what could they do? He still has a gun. Let's face it, he's got us by the balls.” 

Ruby looked to Clem, “It don't seem right votin' without 'em havin' a say-so. They gotta vote as well.” Omar stepped in, squashing further discussion.

“But they're not here _to_ vote, Ruby! We gotta be realistic about this. Aasim's right, he's still armed and we gotta assume Vi and AJ have no idea whats going on. We're outta options and time. I change my vote to yes. Even if they were here what could they do? Vi'd have to get awfully close to get a shot off. The deal is our best bet.”

Three to two. Shit. Since taking over the leadership role she began to grasp the difficulty Lee faced when forced to make a decision having met up against some insurmountable problem and how best to dealt with it .

_All that while taking care of a little girl. I could use you now, Lee..._

No doubt Lee would accept the offer. He would have accepted any offer that would help the group, especially when it concerned Clem. She was in Lee's shoes now. As enticing as the offer was having been hoodwinked caused her to seriously reevaluate her decision making abilities and just couldn't bring herself to go against the group again. Omar was right, even in the best case scenario AJ and Vi would be in no position to help. 

Starbuck, meanwhile, remained a respectable distance away and seeing that a decision had been reached, began walking back. As he approached the look on each face hinted what each person's answer was. His eyes stopping on Clem, a sorrowful expression on his face. 

“Should I bother?” 

Willy included his two sense also. “Want us to spell it out for ya, shithead?” 

Starbuck closed his eyes before speaking again, eyes still shut. “I beg you to reconsider.”  
  
Clementine shook her head. “Not happening.”

“Pretty clear to me unless yer both retarded _and_ fucking stupid! HAH!” 

Crossing his arms and staring at the chronic masterbator. “Allow me to try a different angle with you, young sir. Ever wonder how a fresh clothes and weapons just materialized? How could that be? Were they planted here or did they arrive afterwards? Perhaps during Lilly's attack one of her minions stashed a duffel bag of goodies for a later date so another attack could be launched. This time from within.” The smile returned to that punchable face. “Calm down, that's not what happened.”

What came next knocked their socks off.

“No. I had inside help.” The smile grew at the look of shock and of jaws hitting the ground.

_I love showbiz. _

“My accomplice smuggled gear inside the walls which I brought indoors. I hid them inside of those boxes,” pointing to the Admin building, “behind the staircase for a rainy day. Pity you cleaned out the adjacent hallway instead of those boxes. Had you done so you would've thrown a monkey wrench in my plans. Thankfully for yours truly you didn't. Once alone I dressed but couldn't resist playing a little piano before properly introducing myself.”

Just when they thought this day couldn't get any worse – it did.

“Care to meet 'im? He's right here.” As he raised an arm five sets of eyes followed the hand which would reveal the identity of the traitor, the one who sold them out.

Willy.

Omar and Ruby, sitting on either side of Willy, scooted away in horror. Each sickened to be even sitting next to this Benedict Arnold.

“How could you?!'

“The fuck?”

“Willy! You fucking snake!”

“Son of a bitch!”

To say that poor Willy was astonished, as well as a little confused would be an understatement. It was hard to tell if he was more confused than astonished or vice versa. 

“The fuck?! I didn't help this fucking asshole! I didn't do nothin'!”

Aasim stood, livid, “Shut the fuck up! You're no better than _fucking_ Marlon you miserable piece of shit!

If Willy was confused so was Starbuck, who hadn't expected this type of reaction. “Huh? What? Whoa! People! People, please! No, not Willy. The guy _behind_ Willy.” 

He whistled and from behind a pillar beside the dorm's vestibule out popped a short, oriental man in his mid thirties with jet black hair, wearing a filthy gray wool sweater, black pants and matching combat boots with an olive and white paisley bandanna draped around his neck. The very same bandanna Starbuck saw hanging from the gate days before, the Delta's predetermined signal announcing the arrival of reinforcements. 

“Hiya, folks. The name's Ho-Jon. Your friendly neighborhood chink.” The voice belied his true age. In fact, it made him sound not that much older than any of them.

“Welcome to our shindig, Ho-Jon. How they hangin'?”

“Fine, thanks for asking,” Ho-Jon did a double take upon seeing Starbuck's face close up. “Holy fuck! How many rakes you step on while you've been away?” He asked at the sight of Starbuck's bruised and partially swollen face. Most of the swelling had receded except for one cheek but the remnants of a shiner was still in evidence. 

The smile dropped and Starbuck grunted. “Hmph! Not your concern! How about instead you show Ms. Clem what you've been doing in your free time?”

Reaching into a jean pocket Ho-Jon pulled out a semi-crumbled up piece of paper and handed it off to Clementine. Looking at it it was apparent that someone had been a busy little beaver. It was a map of the school.

The map was similar to the one in Clem's office marking the various parts of the school like the Admin building, the dorms, the greenhouse, both gates, and the cemetery. This included landmarks outside the walls such as the much mentioned hunting and trapping grounds, the shack, and the train station where Clementine totaled her car. Frankly, the only feature absent from this map was Marlon's 'safe zone'.

This map, on the other hand, was more detailed. Much more.

The distances between the various buildings and points of interest of the school had been meticulously counted off in paces. The distance from the gate to the flagpole, flagpole to the Admin, Admin to the front gate, the greenhouse to the dorms, it was all there. All buildings, landmarks, and reference points had been drawn and properly annotated. The length of each side of the school's wall had been measured out as well. Even the graves, each labeled in their correct position and bearing the name of its occupant including Ms. Martin's memorial.

But most disturbing were the dorms, each rood had not only its room number labeled but the names of who slept there and where. It was one thing to discover someone was mapping out the grounds but the idea that someone was had been spying on you while you slept was enough to make the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. 

The construction of this map had been no small feat. The effort needed to explore the grounds, calculate the distances, illustrate and label everything would have been a herculean endeavor. The only way to obtain that amount of detail could only be attained by walking around the grounds. But then how the hell did he get past Rosie? 

Clem turned to the Asian, hoping to sound braver than she felt. “Looks like you've been busy.”

“Just a hobby. Drew by day, explored and measured by night. Starbuck helped label everything. Couldn't find the keys so I had to tap on his window.” 

Hearing this Starbuck stood, arms akimbo. “All this time waiting for my Romeo,” tilting back his head and placing the back of his hand upon his forehead, “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love. And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Are you always this fucking annoying or is this some shit you do just for us?” Clem asked, having never known of Shakespeare's famous play.

“You think this is bad wait 'til he starts singing Christmas songs twenty four-seven.”

A hurt expression came back Starbuck's face. “May Santa forever go to the reindeer stall to fill your stocking. Keep it up and I'll start singing _Barbie Girl_.” 

Ho-Jon flashed a warning finger. “Don't you dare! I'll knock the shit out of you...”

Clem had long sense grown weary of this gay banter and narrowed her eyes at the smuggler. “So you're the one who brought the walkers.”

“Not me.” Now turning serious. “We enjoy these surprise visits from the dead just like you. They showed up something like two days after I did, from the northeast, we came from the South. That's why I hid up in the trees. Had to put on a blanket covered in guts so I could work outside the walls.”

“And inside?”

Shrugging his shoulders matter of factly, “Took off my boots. Spent most of my time in the bush in my bare feet. It makes me pay more attention to my environment. I see more, I have better focus. My feet and my spirit become one with the planet.” Clem gave him a dubious look and he again shrugged. “OK. Didn't want to bump into your dog.”

Starbuck now chimed in. “For future reference Aasim, if you use a rope to scale the wall make it a habit to stow it when done. Thus is one bad neighborhood. Don't want just anyone to find it. Not everyone is such a stand up citizen as Ho-Jon here.”

“Actually, I was hoping by the time I got here the red carpet would've been rolled out for me.”

“Pshht! Funny guy. Practically had to be carried into this dump.”

“Your mother always said you had a face for radio.” Starbuck again looked hurt until he smiled and flipped off Ho-John. 

Clem rolled her eyes. “If you and your girlfriend want some private time together we can leave you two alone.

Looking back to everyone Starbuck continued, oblivious to Clem's jab. “Once finished he knocked on my window and I labeled everything. He's been watching this place for – what – five days? Placing that bandanna on the gate was his signal to let me know things were in motion which brings us here today. Sneaky little bastard ain't he?”

The Oriental bowed.

Willy stood and looked at his friends. “So fucking what? Just means there's two of these Delta assholes instead of one! Don't mean shit!”

Aasim agreed and looked to the newcomer. “Yeah, so you have a map. I'm not exactly shaking in my boots.” Ho-Jon was about to respond but was cut off.

“Just showing how completely I have the advantage. If you're stupid and continue to brush off my offer of peace we'll just lay siege to you and this school.” Clem faced Starbuck, having recovered her game face.

“I've survived a siege before.” 

Starbuck shook his head. “I doubt that, honey. A siege means I post my people around your school. With a school this size, easy. It means no one goes out, nothing comes in. No food, no water, no wood. Nothing. We'll use that shed of yours as a staging area and if we were to catch someone sneaking out Abel gets fed.” A thought suddenly came to mind, forming his fingers into the shape of a church's steeple he cradled his chin on his thumbs in contemplation. “Scratch that. Anyone caught Abel takes a nibble, gets tied to a tree where you all watch your friend turn.”  
  
Clem balled her fists and leveled a glare that would have cowered a lesser man, “Mother fucker. You wouldn't dare.” 

Starbuck matched her glare for glare. “Try me. I've tried being diplomatic but the kid gloves have come off, Clementine. Take the deal – or else.”

Clem rose slowly, only using one crutch to stand, with fire in her eyes she gave her final answer. “Fuck you and that fucking horse you rode on.” 

The others cheered and applauded Clem's audacity and her verbal slam dunk on Starbuck and his people. Three times now they had gone toe to toe with the Delta and had come out victorious. As long as Clem remained at the helm the Delta would find neither friend nor ally within the walls of Ericson's Boarding School For Troubled Youth. Clem relished the sight of Starbuck's jaw moving, grinding his teeth in irritation at her doggedness. Despite the events of the day and the danger they still were in, for the first time that day she found herself smiling.

The smile wouldn't last for long. 

Starbuck closed his eyes to better compose himself and seek his happy place before speaking. “Very well then. One final move before checkmate. Three things you should consider: One, I hope AJ and Blondie are both okay.”

_Shit! So he does know they're missing!_

“Two, you guys need to lock your doors.” Raising a finger as if to say 'wait', he wordlessly excused himself as he jogged off a dozen or so yards and cried out. “Oh Boys!”

Nothing.

Louder now. “Hey GUYS!” 

Again nothing. Clem and company stared in amusement at Starbuck as he stood, like someone with egg all over their face. He then looked skyward, muttered an oath only he heard, and roared.

“HEEEEYYY!”

The merriment came to an abrupt end as first one, then another loud bang could be heard across the yard emanating from the storm cellar. Upon the third bang the door flew open with a resounding crash and two men emerged from the depths of the basement, one black and the other white, running their way. As they approached Clem and company realized these men were armed not with mere handguns and knives but were packing some serious firepower. The black man, armed with an AK-47, while the other held an AK in one hand and carried an M1 Carbine in the other which he tossed to Ho-Jon who easily caught it one-handed. The three armed men took up semi-circular positions around Clem's couch, the couch's occupants recoiling in terror.

Taking a look back in Starbuck's direction Clem saw a pair of eyes radiant with pure malevolence and anger that seemed to bore a hole straight through her. While she may be no stranger to staring down evil this man was on a level all his own. One more devious, cunning and fundamentally more dangerous than even Lilly.

With hazel eyes blazing fire, his voice still bellowing, “I've got two more people bringing Violet and AJ here as we speak,” he trailed off, his voice becoming softer while still retaining its razor sharp edge. “Third,” he added with muted savagery, “I _am_ the leader of the Delta.”

Clem felt her head swim. Her mind like a boxer who had taken nothing but head strikes for nine straight rounds and all that was needed for the coup de grace was a puff of breath.

Her voice came out, barely a whisper. “You?”

He spoke slowly, enunciating every word, every syllable, thereby avoiding any possible misunderstanding or misinterpretation of the next words to escape his lips. 

“_Lit_tle. 'Ol. Me.”


	8. Revelations and Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy and drop a comment!

Clementine scanned Starbuck's newest associates with trepidation. As the three Delta members took up positions around their couch Louis did his best to protect his woman, clutching her to his chest and holding on for dear life. The others may be busy losing their shit our intrepid debutante's eyes scanned each man's hands, specifically their trigger finger, which were no where near the trigger oddly enough. This meant either they held no fear or were following orders. She hoped for the latter. Either way it appeared a sign that they had not intention of shooting them but considering how this day had gone thus far, who knew? 

Not that Clem would go out of her way to care but a unique opportunity presented itself: for the first time she would be in a position to see what the rest of an M1 looks like. Prior to today the only part our hero was familiar with was the end of the barrel, of which she found herself on the wrong end of twice before. While she may have never fired the M1 but she did have plenty of trigger time with the AK having used it during her tenure with the New Frontier. How could one forget lugging all ten and a half pounds of its wood and stamped steel construction for miles on end without a strap, especially being a malnourished twelve year old?

The white man dropped his rifle to his side and with a smile he hoped would disarm the situation, introduced himself as Zachariah. Zachariah donned a gray wool overcoat, jeans and work boots. He appeared about Starbuck's age, brown hair a tad too long for someone with such a pronounced widow's peak, and brown eyes. He gestured with his head to the other man.

“This here's Linc.” The man was best described as a beast.

Standing a massive six foot five he towered over all present, a full head taller than either Zachariah or Starbuck. Black as pitch, he looked like a man who's bad side you would be best to avoid unless you had a death wish or wanted body slammed. The AK looked like a toy in his ham hocks for hands. Resting the rifle on his massive shoulders he nodded and spoke with a deep Southern twang.  
  
“Nice to make yo acquaintance.” He smiled, exposing a missing front tooth. For his part, he wore a Georgetown University sweat shirt, and cargo pants, a black beanie, nearly as dark as his skin; atop his dome. He was older than the others by several years. No doubt many of his formative years spent playing violent contact sports or liberating other kids of their lunch money. But with the whole world having turned upside down he may well have been a figure skater or a ballerina for all they knew.

“Aasim, my sidearm please.” Starbuck said, extending a hand to Aasim. He stood and with hands slightly shaking, returned the Sig Sauer to its owner. Starbuck inserted a magazine, racked the slide, decocked the hammer, holstered the gun and gave the Indian a smile. “Told you I'd be getting this back.”   
  
Pleasantries having been dispensed with Starbuck returned to the business at hand. and looked back to the Asian, “Ho-Jon, you got first watch. Up in the tower with you and let me know when Maddy and Josiah show up.”

“On it.” Without another word he dutifully carried out the order and ascended the school's lookout tower.

“Zack. You got the conn. Think you two can hold down the fort while I take take of a little personal matter?”

“Da fuck ah look like? Some fuckin' babysittah?”

Casting a glance at the giant, an irritated bite to his words. “Just do it, Linc” 

Seeing the giant goofy grinning in response Starbuck rolled his eyes, muttered the word, “Prick,” turned on his heels and ran towards the gates. Exiting the smaller of the two, which was left slightly ajar, and made his way into the woods. To the confusion of all he continued running until reaching Abel's tree where there commenced a one sided conversation. Curiosity overcame the kids as they stood and moved in order to obtain a better vantage point before their movement was checked by Linc, who raised his rifle.

“Hold it!”

“Simmer down, Linc. They're unarmed.” Linc grunted and lowered the rifle, still wary.

All eight stood and watched, unsure as to what was going on between Starbuck and Abel. He just stood motionless in front of his former comrade until Ruby broke the silence.

“Is he – pissin'?” 

Now that she mentioned it a stream of golden colored liquid was just perceptible, hitting Abel fully in the face. After one last exaggerated shake, he spit on the reanimated corpse and began the trek back. 

“Never was any love lost between those two.” Zachariah noted.

Linc chimed in agreement. “Yep. Always said he'd piss on his grave. Next best thing ah guess.”

Ruby then cried out, “Walkers!” having spied a pair of them descending on Starbuck who was still nonchalantly making his way back to the school, seemingly unaware or uncaring that members of the Salvation Army of darkness were approaching.

“Good. Let the walkers kill 'im.” Willy said. That goofy grin of Linc's returned,

“Yous jus' watch. He knows how to take care of hisself.”

That he did.

Recognizing he now had company he stopped and turned towards the nearest walker, waiting until it was nearly within arms reach before he side stepped to the right and slammed a foot into the side of the walker's knee, forcing the joint to bend in a direction never intended. Pivoting on the ball of his foot he spun behind the walker then kicked it to the ground and placing a foot between the walker's shoulder blades, pulled out his knife and buried it into the back of the walker's head, then shifted his attention to the other walker.

_Come get some._

Waiting just a hair longer before launching his attack he clamped onto the walker's wrist and twisting the arm, pinned it behind the walker's back. Grasping the walker's elbow with both hand he jerked the captive arm sharply upwards with all his might as a faint popping sound was heard, indicative of a dislocated shoulder. Had this happened to a living, breathing human being they would have unleashed a bloodcurdling scream.

With the walker left with only one usable arm Starbuck was free to grab the back of the walker's neck with one hand while carefully cradling the walker's jaw with the other and gave it a savage twist, snapping its neck. The effort was facilitated given the walker's advanced stage of decomposition. Starbuck stepped back to allow the walker to crumple like a rag doll. Standing over his now paralyzed adversary he again reached for his knife and thrust the blade into its head. 

With the coast now clear he wiped the blood and gore onto his pant leg and returned the knife to its proper place and walked back to the safety of the school, regretting he hadn't thought to pack hand sanitizer.

_Pricks. _

Onward he walked until reaching the fire pit and surveyed the various expressions on each face, including Clem's and those of his people. Some were amused, some terrified, but most disappointed due to the fact that walkers failed to do them the simple courtesy of eliminating at least one of their problems. The idea that anyone would wish him dead hurt his feelings and knew he would doubtless cry into his pillow that night. Again taking in the varying looks an impish smile overcame him and thrusting his hands into his pockets, rotated ninety degrees, and burst into song all-while walking with an exaggerated high step with each alternate word:

"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts  
There they are all standing in a row  
_Big_ ones, _Small_ ones   
Some as big as your head!"

Returning to the here and now Starbuck moseyed back to the party. “Sorry about that.” He again resumed his serious demeanor and once more addressed his two compadres. “Now then, I've got a bone to pick with you two pricks. I've had this day planned out for weeks. The hell happened back there?” With a school teacher's disapproving look he shifted his gaze between Linc and Zachariah, Linc being the first to speak. 

“His fault. He done,” he said, pointing to the man next to him, “fell asleep.” 

The teacher cast a stern look at the white man. “Merlin's beard! Seriously?”  
  
Glaring at the behemoth, “Snitches get stitches, Linc,” Zachariah declared. Looking back he shrugged. “Sorry. Haven't slept much. Who's in charge of this hotel anyways?” 

Starbuck nodded with his head in Clem's direction. “Ask the Peg Leg. She's the Maître d'.” 

Zachariah looked to the school's ringleader. “I wish to file a complaint. My pillow was lumpy,” he complained, “and the mattress was hard as a rock.”

“No room service neither.” Linc added.

“Stow it, both of you.” Focusing attention back to Clem. “See how I have the upper hand. Since peace failed I'll kick it old school and persuade you by force.”

“That's what you think.” Clem replied defiantly.

Starbuck tut tutted. “Clementine, spare me. You expect me to believe you'd would wish harm on Violet or AJ? Come _on_!” I have two more people bringing them back, unharmed, as we speak. To do so otherwise would be bad business. Our fates are too intertwined, you and me.”

“Really now? How's that?” Clem queried.

“Simple. Without you I never would have come to power. Without me you never would have been allowed to exist.”

Clem crossed her arms and feigned a yawn, neither convinced nor impressed. Starbuck carried on. “As you can imagine we weren't exactly jumping for joy at the news that our boat, as well as her crew, went kablooie. Lucky for us I succeeded in convincing those bent on revenge from stringing you all up just by tidying house and tying up some loose ends.”

“Well, I suppose we should thank you for that.” Clem said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Louis responded to which Clem translated, “My thoughts too. And just how did you tie up those 'loose ends'?” The answer sent a chill down her spine.

“Identify the ringleaders and killed them.”

A look of disgust came over all. “You had your own people killed? What kind of sick fuck are you?” Willy asked. 

At first he shrugged a shoulder then stated. “All's fair in love and war, William. Think I'm not willing to do whatever it takes to protect my own? Damn right I will. Even if it means killing some to save many. I didn't have them killed. I – myself! Killed them. Leadership 101: Never ask others to do something you yourself are not willing. Which is why I allowed myself to be beaten and maltreated just to get us to where we are today. There were those hell bent on vengeance. Those willing to throw away yet more lives in this stupid pissing match of Lilly's. _They_ were the ones I killed. None were killed out of the joy of killing but killed they had to be. No way would I allow that to happen to my people. Not so long as I could do something about it.” He now looked her square in the eye. “Nor would you, Clementine. You and I are more alike than you'd like to admit. Told you once my boss knows a losing battle when he sees one. Just failed to mention I was the boss.”

Starbuck then took a step back and crossed his arms. “So, dear Abel never offered up any details about that community up north, huh?”

“Nope. Nothing except they made him look like the Virgin Mary. Whatever that means.”

Starbuck looked astonished. “Did I just hear the words 'Abel' and 'the Virgin Mary' used in the same sentence? Looks to me gentlemen,” turning to his people, “that ice cubes are now being served in hell!” Stepping back to his seat and continued having sat down gingerly. “Pray, permit me to educate you all about what we're up against. As you know, I wasn't always in charge. I was once a nobody. Just one of Lilly's soldiers, a cog in the wheel of the Delta, another brick in the wall, if you will. I was sent with some others to look for land after the last of our pigs died and – ”

“So you did have pigs?” Clem interjected. She had long wondered if Lilly had been telling the truth about raising pigs, growing corn and having solar power. Well, at least she wasn't bullshitting about the pigs.

“Yep. The dey got some blight an' died. We's ate like kings for days.” Linc replied.

“You wana tell the story, Linc, or may I continue?” Starbuck asked. Getting zero response he recommenced to spin his yarn or tell a story.

The mission was simple, take a five man group on a fourteen day, long range patrol to scout the surrounding areas for grounds suitable for crop growing since their attempts at raising livestock failed due to illness. If a suitable plot of land was found they were to return so one of Lilly's loyal sycophants could scout the location before final approval was given and construction could begin.

His squad had been on the move for nine days and as they humped along what, according to a river crossing sign they passed, turned out to be the Hocking River. The patrol halted when one team member spotted a man-made trap. This meant only one thing: people were close. A quarter mile further they happened across an abandoned camp, one of its residents may have been the one who built the trap they found earlier. No signs of life were seen and the camp itself appeared to have been long since abandoned for reasons unknown. It was reminiscent of the ancient Incan city of Machu Picchu, no evidence of who had lived there, everything intact, no reason why its people mysteriously vanished. The residents may well have just woken up one day and walked off into the sunset. 

With the exception of a dozen or so blankets, a fire pit with a log placed alongside for seating, some rudimentary tools and a collection of discarded cans not much remained of much use. This was no permanent community, its purpose simply for an overnight stay or had been intended as a bivouac for a few days before they moved out. Since the homeowners were out and weren't expected back anytime soon each liberated a blanket and walked a short distance before they ran into some of the residents. There had been little in the way of evidence to indicate how people had lived here. They just knew of at least four.

They knew that because the quartet dangled from trees.

Three men hung from a tree, a honey locust tree in this case, each person suspended from their own branch. Each body gyrating gently from the movement of their outstretched arms, hands grasping the empty air, uselessly trying to snag the members of the patrol. Their dead, jaundice-yellow eyes staring blankly at the food before them, just like the punishment of the Greek mythological figure Tantalus, sustenance just out of reach. Just as it was impossible to tell how many people had lived here it was impossible to gauge how long they had been left swinging in the breeze, waiting for a bite to eat. The sound of the signature moans and groans of the walkers was chocked off by a noose of brightly colored nylon rope wrapped around each constricted throat. 

The fourth walker they came across must have royally pissed someone off. This one had a tree all its own yet wasn't left suspended from it.

This one was nailed to it.

The fourth man was thirty feet away and faced its former companions. Although this one was free to moan and groan to its black heart's desire – alas, it was denied the ability to high five or play patty cake with visitors due to having both arms raised above its head, the hands crossed over each other like someone performing CPR, a ten penny nail driven through both palms into the trunk of the white oak. At its base lay a log upon which rested the naked feet of the walker, or more correctly, its toes. The distance between log and nail was such that while alive, the man was forced to remain on his tip toes or the nail would bear the full weight of his body. The final hours of the man's life had to have been nothing short of agony. It was theorized that he had been nailed to his own tree, all the while forced to watch as each of his cronies were strung up and watched on as each turned until the blessed arms of Death reached out and took him into the afterlife. 

What this man endured was nothing short of crucifixion.

The patrol's leader, a man named Reese, was begged by some to be allowed to put those poor souls out of their misery and bury the bodies but the proposal was shot down. Removal of the bodies would only show that others had been in the area and knew what befell these piteous souls. There was no telling if the perpetrators of this heinous deed would return so it was decided more prudent to leave them be, as unsettling as it was. So with a heavy heart they packed up their gear and beat feet and putting as much distance between them and this scene of fresh hell as possible.

What they uncovered next was the stuff of nightmares.

Sallying forth, something caught the eye of their point man who halted the patrol before going ahead to investigate. The rest spread out and took up defensive positions in the event of trouble as they awaited their comrade's return. It was conceivable that those responsible for the torture and eventual murder of those four poor sods still lurked somewhere in these woods. 

Everyone's nerves were still on edge after what they had witnessed. After what felt like an interminable amount of time the patter of running feet and the crashing of underbrush. Whomever was approaching gave not one iota of care to maintain noise discipline. At the sound of the first broken limb weapons came to the ready and pointed in the direction of the disturbance, guns set to rock 'n roll and fingers on the trigger. Finally, their point man emerged into a clearing, his face twisted in horror. At first he was unable to speak, capable only of pointing a quaking finger in the direction of the river a few hundred yards away.

Each member made a beeline to the shore to see what all the brouhaha was all about and what had rendered their comrade silent. 

The sight of a dozen walkers interspersed between the fallen timber that made up a log jam in the river made their blood run cold. As well as those embedded into the debris others found themselves partially submerged as was the odd arm sticking out of the murky depths. As with the walkers they had seen earlier every arm and each set of cold, dead eyes fixated lustily at the patrol. Seeing that all were stuck dead-fast, no pun intended, Starbuck made his way down to the river's edge as close as he dared and nearly threw up at what greeted his eyes.

Women, as well as men, made up those trapped in the frigid waters of the Hocking, the women naked from the waist down, the sole detail in Starbuck's recollections he kept to himself, not deeming it relevant. People who crucify others was bad enough, there as no need to go delve further to convince the Company of how these people were the epitome of evil, whoever they may be. Plus they were kids, not like the 'kids' really meant anything in this day in age.

Not only had the women been sexually assaulted it was noted that each walker was tied to the other by the wrist, men tied to women, women to women, men to women. One of his confederates, meanwhile, made his way next to Starbuck and recalled hearing stories of the German _Wehrmacht_ committing atrocities, such as these, all along the Eastern Front during the Second World War. Russian civilians, transported on trains bound for labor camps, would periodically stop when they came upon a rail bridge. Being told to exit the train to stretch their legs they instead would be tied together at the wrist in pairs. They were then walked out onto the bridge where one person of each pair was then shot in the back of the neck, the weight of the corpse pulling the other into the water below. Whatever monsters carried out this heinous deed must have done this same thing by making use of a road bridge they passed some miles behind. Gunfire would be too loud and would draw walkers so one was either knocked unconscious or both were unceremoniously shoved over the side where they either sank to the bottom or floated downriver until becoming ensnared on debris. 

The patrol packed up their gear and made themselves scarce and preceded to race back to the Delta to make their findings known, all thoughts of their original mission having evaporated. As time went on more instances of barbarism were reported by other Delta members and by communities they had dealings with at the time. Until further notice their perimeter was brought in closer and security tightened, guards doubled and patrols increased. 

His story now concluded Starbuck looked at each horror-stricken face in silence for several moments before speaking again. 

“Now you see we're up against some serious shit. Don't believe me? Ask Josiah when he gets here. He was our point man. That's why we need your help.”

“How can anyone do sumtin' like that?”

Clem looked to Ruby. “Hunger does weird things to people. Not always for the better.”

“That it does, Clem. That it does. We don't have the bodies to function as well as keep an eye out for these pukes. Those people and the Delta aren't the only dangers lurking in the woods – and I'm not referring to walkers.”

Zachariah stepped forward to take up the story. “Found signs of another group. Call themselves Whisperers. They walk around wearing walker skin so they – what? Something I said?”

At the utterance of the word 'Whisperers' the kids bolted upright in their seats as if an electrical charge surged up through the couch cushions. Long had they wondered what had happened to James. 

A heap of questions came to mind. Had he been reunited with his former people? Did this mean they going to attack the school like that community which caused James to desert? Would James be forced to show them the way to the school? Would do so...willingly. That would explain the sudden appearance of walkers in such unprecedented numbers. Willy had thought so since that day he found himself stuck up in that tree earlier that week. This could all be a prelude to a full scale attack on the school in retaliation for Clem allowing AJ to become that which James feared, a killer. One who finds the solution to every problem with the gun.

“What about 'em?” Ruby asked, hesitantly. Not sure if she really wanted the question answered.

“Found a body a few months back. Didn't have his mask but recognized the gloves he had which means he's a Whisperer. Probably how the dumb bastard got himself killed in the first place.”

“Ain't much left o' 'im.” Team Ericson gave a collective gasp. “Walkers ate 'im.” Linc said. The mystery of what had happened to their former friend had been solved. 

The Walker King was dead.

Ruby's voice cracked. “James...”

“James?”

Clem nodded sadly. “He was our friend. He's the one who helped us get on your boat.”

It was now Starbuck's turn to give a doubtful look. “Told you I was an idiot, not a fool.”

“We have his mask.” She recalled James leaving the mask behind after a fight broke out between the former allies because of Clem giving AJ the go ahead to kill Lilly. What had transpired was a debate over whose side was just, neither able to convince the other to see things their way. Instead each espoused their own stance on how best to exist in this world dominated by the dead. On one side was our hero, convinced that in order for there to be peace Lilly must die. Then there was James, a man who had witnessed what happens to people when anger and rage go unchecked, especially in one as young as AJ. Once, at the sign of weakness from a fellow member, James killed him and feared AJ would follow the same path from which there would be no turning back.  
  
James view of peaceful coexistence with walkers always reeked of some hippy bullshit that would accomplish nothing but get people killed. The mere thought that walkers and the living could live peacefully side by side was pure lunacy. Having seen more than her fair share of humans being torn apart by walkers only served to reinforce her own view that the only good walker was a dead walker, preferably one with a blade in the back of its head. The best defense against walkers was maintaining the ability to stay one step ahead of the herd or to find or construct some place of security. This was truly kill or be killed. Over the millennia mankind had long become the dominant life-form on the planet and reigned supreme at the top of the food chain. Now the tables had turned, the predators vastly outnumbering the prey.  
  
Humans were now on the menu. 

As if the walkers weren't bad enough other survivors could be just as deadly, if not more so. Of the Ten Commandments many around the world had previously adhered to, most had long since been discarded once the the dead took over and the planet became a blue-green, spherical smorgasbord. Thou Shall Not Kill was only nominally observed while Thou Shall Not Covet became Thou Shall Not Covet My Shit. Whatever you wanted you had to get. What you couldn't obtain peacefully you took by force.

“Go get it, Willy. It's on the coat rack in my room.” Willy looked to Starbuck for permission, which was granted, curious to see if the truth was being told or he was being served some cock and bull story. Willy rose and took off like greased lightning, returning a minute later with mask in hand and held it out to Starbuck who looked at the mask and exclaimed.

“I'll be damned.”

“Well ain't dat some shit?”

Holding the mask up to the light he marveled at the time, patience and expertise spent on creating this – thing. 

Resembling the mask worn by Leatherface, the antagonist from_ The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ – well – maybe not his mask, perhaps that of a trusty side kick. With the mask not being worn the mask lay in his hands much like a deflated beach ball but made of human skin with oversized holes for the wearer's eyes, nose and mouth. The skin once belonged to that of a man with thin wisps of black hair and appeared to have been removed in one whole piece, as evidenced by both ears being left undamaged. Whoever created this mask had some experience in taxidermy or knew how to expertly skin an animal. The skin itself was eerily coarse yet supple, much like that of a much used baseball glove and had a sickly gray-green pallor to it not dissimilar to Abel's current coloration. At the mask's crown were several horizontal strips of what appeared to be strips of some unknown material sewn onto the mask tight enough to hold the two halves together yet loose enough to enable the wearer to easily remove the mask. Portions of missing epidermis over the forehead were present having occurred postmortem, most probably – well – the death of the live person, that is. 

Starbuck wondered when a person turned if that meant they become mostly-dead like in _The Princess Bride_ or _all_-dead. There were logical arguments for both view points. A walker is half-dead until you either put a bullet in its head or rammed a blade through its skull then it became all-dead. Or would it be considered the person's second death? It was one of those existential questions that one ponders when alone in your house with the lights off, a blanket over your head, all the while wearing your tin foil hat.  
  
Starbuck pondered how the mask was constructed but stopped, the taste of bile rising up in the back of his throat. Swimming in a pool of walker guts held more appeal than traipsing around God's great Earth with this wretched thing on. Walkers may not be human, per se, they still retained many fundamental human characteristics. He made a face at the very idea of people actually walking around in human skin, skin belonging to a once healthy human being. Growing up Starbuck hated hats and had been lukewarm to masks, even during Halloween. Still, the idea of wearing human skin was enough to give sane person the heebie jeebies.   
  
_'Before you judge a man, walk a mile in his shoes.' Doubt that holds true for walking in a man's skin._

Now thoroughly convinced he handed back the mask. “You guys are just chock full of surprises.”

“He and I had – a falling out.” That was an understatement.

“No offense, but do you kill everyone you meet?

“Haven't killed you. Yet.” She added with a smile.

Starbuck frowned at the jab. “You sure know how to hurt guy's feelings.”

A shrug. “A girl can dream. So tell me again why I should work for you? Last time the Delta tried bargaining with me your old boss wound up finding herself on the wrong side of a gun.”Starbuck raised an eyebrow. “So she is dead then. You're sure?”

“Yep. Shot her myself.” Liar! Starbuck himself didn't buy it based on how quickly she answered, the words having barely escaped his lips. Regardless, he felt a wave of relief come over him knowing that his chief rival was dead. There had never been any doubt that Lilly was dead but meeting someone who had seen her corpse would help him sleep better at night.

“Pity. Hoped she would've showed up one of these days so I could string that bitch up like a piñata. This is more preferable.” He resumed his business-like tone. “With not for. I told you who we're fighting against. Dealing with me is in both of our best interests. If and when they attack it'll either be this school first or the Delta that gets attacked first. At least if we work together we stand a better chance of mounting an effective defense, as you've shown an acumen for. Further, as I've said a hundred times now I'm smarter than Lilly, better than Lilly. Never would I condone kidnapping people, forcing them to fight under penalty of death.” With an aggrieved expression he looked straight to Louis. “It's of little consequence now but I never would have allowed torture. Had I been aboard the Fitzgerald, Louis I swear would have stopped them. I wasn't in charge then but am now and wish to atone for the sins of my predecessor, may she rest in pieces.”

Clem had used that word before and found herself transported back in time to the morning after AJ shot Marlon. Sitting in what been their room for less than twenty four hours, both awaited the vote that would determine their fate. Would they be considered too much of a menace, an unnecessary hazard to the the school and those residing within that they would be cast out like trash. Try as she might to help her goofball atone for his sins her attempts ultimately proved fruitless, the others voting against them staying. Having been expelled from the school did contain a silver lining. Had the outcome differed they never would have been in a position to warn the others about Lilly and Abel's intentions. Time warp what felt like a lifetime and a day to the present day now she was the one listening to a stranger imploring her for forgiveness and help.

But was the school better off then or now? Granted, Lilly was dead and now the Delta felt compelled to sue for peace yet Lilly's replacement anywise infiltrated some armed men inside. Same group, different asshole. The only redeeming trait this guy had was his restraint in not ordering his men to line up our protagonists against the wall and shot. Had Clementine been in his shoes she, not doubt, would show no such hesitation in killing those responsible for the deaths of her friends.

Nonetheless, that story about that other community continued to nag her. If true it would explain Lilly's motivation for kidnapping the twins and turning them into kid soldiers. Most had witnessed for themselves how their former friend and colleague's mind had become warped and perverted. The first two times Clem had faced off against Minerva she always expressed interest in Tennessee's well being and safety yet later you confess to the cold blooded murder of her twin out of loyalty to the Delta, her new home.

Still, Marlon's bow sure would come in handy right about now. She could savor the look of shock and surprise on his face the split second before an arrow pierced the area between his eyes. But it had long since vanished and he had the drop on them. Even if she succeeded in killing him there still remained the other three to contend with. Starbuck may be the only thing between the Ericson's residents and a burst of automatic weapons fire that would mow them down. Plus, there still was Vi and AJ to worry about.

She chose to throw in the towel, hanging her head in defeat. 

“Fine. You got your deal.” Louis gripped her by the shoulders but the heartbroken look on her face told him the topic was no longer up for debate. “I'm sorry, Lou. We have no choice.”

Inwardly, Starbuck felt like dancing, maybe even doing cartwheels and back flips in the courtyard but decided it more prudent to remain professional. He instead exhaled and walked over to Clementine, extending his hand.

“So we have an accord?” Clem stared at the outstretched hand, then up at the man. The man whose trickery fooled them into believing he was some hapless cripple, caught up in this vicious and cruel world. In fact he was the new face of their enemy but instead of seeking pay back, wanted peace. 

She again looked down at the hand, then back up at Starbuck.

And shook it.

“Yeah. You win.” 

After a few hand pumps he stopped shaking hands. “No, Clem. We all win.”

“We'll see about that.”

“They're in good hands.” Referring to each group's missing duo.

Zachariah did his best to stifle a laugh while Linc chortled. “Josiah couldn't pour water outta a boot with instructions on the heel. Hah hah!”

Starbuck snapped around, facing Zachariah. “This coming from one who nearly got bit because he was too preoccupied getting a blowjob!” The man's eyes bugged out while Linc was beside himself with mirth.

“Who told you?!

“Doesn't matter. Don't get your panties in a bind, Zack. That's why I sent Maddy with him. Cut him some slack.”

Clem smiled despite herself seeing he endured the same headaches of leadership she did. “Problems with your people, huh.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head in response. “Oiy. If hate we people, I'd be China.”

“What?”

“Never mind. You try keeping dozens of adults in check twenty-four seven. You're biggest decision each day is deciding when it's beddy bye.”

“Wish you were still surviving on your own?”

“Nah, been there, done that. Granted, not nearly as much as you, I'm sure. There are times I miss it. You pick the route, set the pace, more food to go around, less drama. Be the master of your universe.”

"But you end up doing all the work, setting up camp, no one to talk to, no one to lift your spirits. Always had AJ to keep me going, especially during the rough times. Always made me push forward.”

The atmosphere now became relaxed Starbuck decided he'd be damned to see the chair he had slaved hours over would continue to go unused and picking it up, carefully planted it between the two couches.

“We all need something to keep us motivated besides just the will to survive. I turned it into a game. Say I walked five miles yesterday and the day before, let's shoot for seven miles tomorrow. Slept on the ground all week. This week I'll try building a shelter. Each day or every couple of days try something different, something new. See what works. What doesn't. Mix things up. Keeps your mind active. Always keep your hands, as well as your mind, active. Sitting on your duff feeling sorry for yourself only causes you to lose focus on your survival. Mental survival is just as important as, if not more so, than physical survival. You lose the will to live you'll just curl into a ball and die.”

As he sat he bounced a few times to test then chair's structural integrity and appeared proud and content of the contraption until a slight 'snap' was heard, causing his eyes to grow wide. His reaction caused a good share of laughter from all assembled which he took in good humor.

“Woo! Now that puckered up mah butthole! See! Not bad for a little bushcraft furniture.” Looking back over to Zachariah and Linc. “You two, take a load off and stay awhile.” Both men sat atop a picnic table while Starbuck continued. “Flying solo has its perks but eventually it gets lonely out on the road. It really hits home when you're by the campfire at night with just your thoughts keeping you company. Hard to relax when there's no one to watch your back when deadites are on the prowl.”

“I spent most of my time with just AJ until we found this place.”

At this Starbuck gave a lopsided grin. “Explains why you kept him away from me for so long. Kid sure has seen some shit for someone his age.” 

Clem sighed at the truth behind his words. “You have no idea.” In some ways neither did she, having no inkling of what transpired back at the shack.

“Spent years by myself until I came across the Delta. That story I told that first day about my humble beginnings,” Clem nodded, “were true for the most part. Actually grew up in Harbor Creek, outside of Erie. I was in Altoona visiting when the world went tits over teacup. You?”

“Georgia. Parents went on vacation and left me with the babysitter.” That was all she felt comfortable sharing publicly.

“Ah spent time in Georgia. Kings Bay. Ah was a navy man.” Linc commented.

“Still wanted in several states for failure to pay child support if I reckon correctly. Right, Linc?” Zachariah quipped. “How about the rest of you?” Before they could respond Starbuck held up a hand.

“That's enough questions for now. Let's wait for everyone else then we can twenty questions. Maybe Yahtzee. Besides, I'm parched and don't feel like repeating myself.” He took a long pull from a canteen offered by Linc which he handed back, his thirst partially satiated. “Feel like I've been talking all day. Should be back soon.”

Something off in the distance caught Omar's attention. “That guy's waving.” All heads turned.

“Bitchin'! Zack,” Starbuck ordered, “open the gate for Lady G and have Ho-Jon provide cover.” He nodded and left. After Zachariah left, the leader of the Delta turned to the others and puffed out his cheeks. “Ooh boy. Not sure how I feel about facing Violet right now. She loathed Stanley. Just wait'll she gets a load of me.”

“Who's Lady G?” Aasim asked.

Linc answered. “Our horse.”

Ruby's eyes lit up like lights on a Christmas tree. “Ya'll still got horses?”

“Hell yeah. Best way to travel if you can keep them quiet. Bicycles would be better but not here in the rugged woods of West Virginia. Unlike Lilly I make sure they're well taken care of, Ruby. She treated them like crap. 

“Actually, Ho-Jon used ta be an Oriental cowboy back in the day.”

“You shittin' me?”  
  
Linc looked offended. “Ah wouldn't shit you. You mah favorite turd. Nah, Ho fell on hard times back in dah day and spent some time on a cattle ranch somewheres.” Linc and Starbuck both stiffened at the sight of Ho-Jon running pell-mell towards where they sat. 

“Youse coulda just whistled, Ho.”

“Get fucked. You guys know I can't whistle. Something's fucked.” Now the others stiffened. They turned just in time to see Zachariah opening the gate, allowing a woman astride a horse into the yard followed by another man they didn't recognize. The woman had an M1 slung over one shoulder while holding the reins in her hands. Attached to the pommel of the saddle was a piece of rope. At the other end was Violet and AJ. 

Each with their hands tied behind them and heads covered.


	9. Stimulus/Response

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well the chapters will be shorter, most probably, from here on out but I still have plenty I want to write pertaining to this story! As always leave a comment and let me know what you think! Enjoy!

The color drained from Starbuck's face as the Ericson crew jumped to their feet – all but Clem.

“You asshole!”

“Mother Fucker!”

“I'll fucking kill you!”

Starbuck was beside himself with rage. “God _DAM_mit!”

"Told ya.”  
  
“Shut your fucking yap, Linc! Keep them here! Clem, I'll take care of this!

Clem was way past being cool, calm and collected. Instead she quaked with fury. “You fuck! You fucking liar! You said you wouldn't hurt them! Deal's off!

“No! Be rational about this!” Good luck with that. “I'll deal will this!” Starbuck rose and stormed off. Ho-Jon, Zachariah and the lady on horseback – with AJ and Violet in tow – made their way to the flagpole by the time their boss met them and commenced to berate the man they guessed to be Josiah. The man cowered, all too aware of the level of shit he found himself to be in. Whatever the man said wasn't much, Starbuck's voice obscuring any words Josiah may have uttered.

“The fuck happened, Josiah! Oh?! Punched you in your precious little dick, did he?! Did it hurt? _GOOD_! I let you run this op because you said you could handle it and you screwed the pooch! Royally! Everyone said it was a bad idea but I had faith in you and now our chances may be well and truly fucked, you prick!”

Clem and company could only stare helplessly as Starbuck made his way over to where AJ stood and removed the hood and untied his bonds. “AJ, I – ” His apology was cut short as he narrowly dodged a dick punch, just managing to twist his junk out of the way. Spying Clem off in the distance AJ made a beeline towards her and vaulted himself straight into her outstretched arms.

“Clem!”

“AJ!” She gave him a look over from head to toe, looking for signs of injury. “Are you ok?! Did they hurt you?!”

“Yeah, I'm fine. They caught us while me and Vi were out hunting and stuff. What's going on? Are those Raiders?”

“Yeah, kiddo. That's Stanley. He's their leader and came here on a 'peace' mission.” Her eyes blazed with wrath as she turned to Starbuck who was currently rubbing the sore spot on his thigh. Her mind began to fill with lucid fantasies as to how best to kill him given the chance.

Starbuck looked at them all, knowing full well he was neck deep in the shit. A day which had started out with so much promise and had gone so well for him had just fallen apart like a Pink Floyd reunion concert.

_Josiah, you little son of a whore..._

Glancing back towards our dynamic duo he called out to AJ by name, “AJ, I swear that wasn't,” switching his attention to the removal of Vi's hood, “supposed to happen.” Removing her hood he was met by those emerald eyes he had earlier fallen head over heels for. Now – not so much. Those eyes still held the same level of intensity but now they now shimmered with malice and hate which sent a shiver down his spine. She never wavered in the belief that the cripple brought to the school shouldn't be trusted and by the look in her eye no doubt she recognized Stanley and Starbuck to be one in the same.

_Probably should have shaved before she came back. Beards tickle. _

“Had some idiot done as he was told we – ” He then removed her gag.

And wished he hadn't.

What followed was a veritable Pandora's Box of banshee wailings stringing together obscenities which violated untold numbers of grammatical rules and biological facts, the sheer force and volume of the tirade was enough to make him retreat a step. Recovering from his initial shock he narrowed his eyes and roughly stuffed the gag back into the blonde's mouth, stifling the vitriolic rant.

“Take that off! _NOW_!” Clem bellowed. 

Starbuck hesitated, mulling over his few available options for a few brief moments. “Have her calm down first! I told you – ”.

“_NOW, MOTHER FUCKER_!”

Starbuck grunted in protest but appreciated the fact that acquiescence to be a pivotal part to easing over this situation, relented. Looking back into Violet's eyes which had lost none of its savagery nor the hate contained within. Those eyes also seemed to convey the message that his birth certificate was nothing more than an apology letter from the condom factory. What Clem would do to him if left to her own devices would be most unpleasant but would pale in comparison to what the blonde intended once released from her bonds. Alas, if he desired to mitigate any damage concessions must be made.

“I'll cut you loose but promise you'll behave and so I can explain everything. Capiche?”

Violet had no such interest in behaving but seeing as her choices were at the moment limited she swallowed her pride and nodded, albeit begrudgingly. Starbuck raised a hand and extending his pinky.

“Pinky swear?” Ignoring the huffing and puffing from the blonde's he went ahead and removed first the gag then her bonds, ready to haul ass if Violet had second thoughts and decided to lunge or take a swing at him. To his relief she was too furious – and hoarse. Instead she rubbed her raw wrists and skulked off towards her friends, redirecting her ire towards Clementine.

“What the actual fuck, Clem? Now we play host to fucking Raiders?”

“Vi, I'm – so sorry. You were right. I – I should have listened to you. This is all my fault.” Clem said, her eyes imploring her friend for forgiveness.

Vi exploded. “Damn right you fucking should have! Now we're as good as fucking _dead_ because of you!”

Starbuck had erstwhile jogged back to the fire pit. “_NO_! This was my fault and mine alone! I failed to keep my people under control. JOSIAH! FRONT AND CENTER!”

“Yeah?” Was the only word the man named Josiah said as he approached, obviously dreading what he was being called over for.

Once in visual range the kids got their first glance at the Delta's version of Jonah*. He looked young, somewhere in the vicinity of the late twenties or early thirties. His blonde hair was matched with a patchy beard that looked like pure ass. The hair and that piss-poor excuse for a beard did little to distract from the man's cauliflower ear nor did it camouflage a nose which had been broken more than a few times and never completely healed. The only redeemable feature about this nincompoop was the portion of a black tribal tattoo visible on his neck as well as a matching tattoo running down the back of one hand. He wore a dark colored Everlast hoodie with a towel placed over his head, the hood pulled over top, jeans, armed with an M1.

“Drop your weapon! Arms behind your back!” Starbuck commanded.

“What?!”

“You heard me. Do it!”

“The fuck...”

“You screwed up big. You know how I roll. I'm harsh but fair. AJ, come on over. You get a free shot.” AJ sat upright.

“Huh?”

“A kid?! You gotta be fucking kidding me, yo!” Josiah exclaimed in protest.

“Yeah, Josiah. A kid. How 'bout Linc?” 

AJ nervously made his way over, unsure as to what the stranger wanted. Behind him the others watched apprehensively, equally unsure as to what was about to go down. 

The little guy couldn't understand how someone could get the better of his Clem. How someone could pull the wool over Clem's eyes. What happened? Had she forgotten her own lesson? Never Go Alone. But that can't be right. Everyone was here. Omar, Aasim, Louis, Ruby, Willy, Rosie – . His heart stopped as he thought how the twosome had set off without Rosie that morning, Vi mad about something she refused to speak of. Had Rosie been with them they never would have be taken by surprise. They could have come back and helped their friends when they needed them most. 

But now he felt like he let them down, all of them. The idea that AJ was somehow responsible for this danger shook him to the core and felt sure he would get the dookies. If only he had known this man was from the Delta he would have killed him just like Lilly. He was also bewildered as to how all these other people got inside the school. He didn't think they had been gone that long, had they?

“Lean forward!” He looked to AJ next. “Whenever you're ready, AJ.”

“This is fucking bullshit, yo! Why –?” The itching stopped as AJ cold cocked the man in the jaw, the man grunting in pain. Standing, he began rubbing his injured jaw and was heard to grumble about the injustice of the world. 

“Intolerable nuisance. Stupid prick.” Starbuck murmured. “Violet! Your turn!”

“Aw, c'mon man! What's this shit, yo?!”

Starbuck twirled on his heel, facing the insubordinate man. “Get up there,” he roared, pointing to the guard tower, “and stand watch!”

“Huh?” 

“_GIT_! I'll deal with you later. At least you know how to take a hit. Now I gotta sort this mess out. Pray to whatever god you believe in you didn't just doom us all. Now go!”

The tirade blessedly over Josiah picked up his rifle and skulked off, eventually taking position on the tower. Slinging the rifle over his shoulder and resting his elbows on the fortress walls of the school and he gazed out into the forest, cursing the school and everyone dwelling in it.

Taking a final look at the ne'er-do-well Starbuck shook his head, muttered the word, “Prick.” Again he called out to Vi. “Over here, Violet.”

“The fuck?” 

“Come. Here.” He said, pointing to the ground to his side. Violet walked over to the man she never trusted. As she neared their eyes locked, hazel meeting emerald green, each sized up the other, just like he had done with Clementine while disguised as Stanley. Since first glancing into those distrustful eyes, all those weeks before, he knew his initial impression of Violet being the hardest nut to crack while brokering a deal between their two communities, was correct. 

_God_ how it frustrated him to no end how the others failed to grasp the full gravity of the situation and what a lifeline he proposed in return for next to nothing. Lilly wanted soldiers and when they turned her down they were attacked. He offered them the moon and then some, asking only for some help in return. What was so difficult to understand? Did these cretins harbor some malicious intent? Where they toying with him – trying to see how far up a wall they could drive him? Well, they were succeeding. Negotiating with some long lost tribe in the Amazonian rain forest would be easier than dealing with these primitive screwheads. His blood pressure must be through the roof or surely it would pop the damned pressure cuff itself.

If any doubts remained as concerning his sincerity how would they explain his subjugation – allowing himself to be ruled by the very whims of his jailers? Where they not the very people he wished to bargain with? After being beaten, followed by an agonizingly slow week spent getting sicker and sicker all the while chained up, denied the fundamental human rights afforded prisoners of war, left to recover from illness on his own. Once he reconnected with Ho-Jon with a mere snap of the fingers he could summon forth the Dogs of War. Instead, once healed time was spent socializing and building a rapport with each resident.

Just as the light at the end of the tunnel was in view, as the sun began to ascend into the heavens – disaster. Disaster in the form of Josiah. One mistake. One misstep. That's all it took to potentially ruin every accomplishment that day.

That's all it takes in survival. What spells the difference between life and death. A sprained ankle, not carrying enough water, wandering off on your own, poor trigger discipline, no means of fire-making. Little things that can snowball into problems that can turn a simple hike, going to take a crap – or surviving in a world of walkers – deadly. He shuddered at the thought and subsequent ramifications had a gun fight erupted. What if someone had been shot? Killed? Had it been one of Starbuck's people he would be powerless to stop them, if he even wanted to. Had something happened to AJ or Vi all aspirations of a possible alliance so desperately needed – would forever be dashed. Starbuck's mission was to remedy his predecessor's transgressions now he had to put a helluva band-aid on one caused by his own people.

Further complicating matters, Starbuck found himself performing a delicate balancing act regarding how best to deal with Josiah. Punish too harshly and he could become resentful, possibly endangering the others of the team. Worse, push the man too far his resentment was liable to become anger and hatred as Lilly had done to Starbuck. If this situation was not diffused just so Starbuck may find himself facing a fate similar to Lilly's or stabbed in his sleep. And yet, be too lenient it would fail to pacify those of the school.

Be that as it may, this misdeed could not go unpunished.

_A good compromise leaves everyone angry. Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound._

“Blame me. Not Clementine. I lost control of my people and that was my fault. You never trusted me from day one. That, I understand.” Placing his arms behind him and leaning forward and presented a cheek. “Hit me. Make it a good one 'cause you only get one shot.”

The words scarcely left his lips before Vi wound up and clocked him right in the kisser. Just as Aasim's punches didn't knock him unconscious or knock him senseless neither did Vi's since each was driven more by anger than by the concentrated power and skill belonging to a prize fighter. Nonetheless, just cautionary measure Starbuck tensed his neck muscles in order to absorb much of the impact so the punch hurt her more. The punches reserved for Josiah and his leader were more symbolic anyways as opposed to any substantial punishment, anyways. Symbolic those punches may be the punch he received landed somewhere he hadn't expected, resulting in the sight of a few stars and tweeting birds circling his dome. Standing upright and playing his tongue over each tooth, ensuring none had been jarred loose and finding none, breathed a sigh of relief.

Violet left him to his devices, mumbling as she walked.

“Fucking cocksucker...”

“Guess this means I still can't get your number?” He replied wistfully while rubbing his throbbing jaw. Violet ignored him and walked past the couch on which sat the two lovebirds where Clem tried in vain to stop her friend.

“Vi, I'm –”

“Fucking eat shit.” And with that walked towards the vestibule before Linc blocked her path with his gargantuan frame.

“Nuh uh, 'lil missy. Youse stay right here where we's can see ya.” He said, pointing back to the couches. The foot and a half height difference did nothing to intimidate Vi, a woman who spent more than her fair share of time going toe to toe with bullies.

“Get the fuck out of my way, you fucking jungle bunny.”

Linc smiled, enjoying this little repartee. “Youse say dat again and ah'll nail dat bony ass to dat there table.

“That's enough, Linc.” Starbuck called. “As long as she stays in sight that'll suffice. Sorry, Vi. That's non-negotiable. Have a seat.”

Instead of sitting with the others she decided instead to lean against the outer brickwork of the vestibule, resting the sole of her boot on the wall, arms crossed as per usual.

Starbuck waved his arms in irritation. “Whatever! If Mr. Rogers was your neighbor, he'd move.” Turning, he walked over to the woman on horseback and spread out both arms horizontal. “So. Tell me a story, Maddy.”

The broad was thirty or so with strawberry-blonde hair pulled in a ponytail poking out beneath a black wool-rimmed beanie exposing a patch of burgundy-colored psoriasis starting at the neck and continued up one cheek, stopping near the temple. She wore blue jeans and a black and green flannel shirt over top of which was a baby blue goose down vest.

The shamed filled blue eyes looked down at her boss and shifted her weight in the saddle, searching for the right words to say. “Um. Well...uh – well, caught the blonde while Josiah went after the little guy and ran outta sight. Next thing I hear he's all cryin' and swearin' and shit. Comes back with the twerp under his arm kickin' and flailin'.” 

Starbuck said nothing at first, only grunted. “Weapons!” He hissed, extending his hand. “You two are like a lighthouse in a desert; Bright, but not a lot of use.” He added irritably.

Maddy reached behind her and extracted Vi's trusty meat cleaver and AJ's SIG Sauer, the same one that sent Lilly to meet her maker – and had shot Tenn – twice.

“And what, pray tell, would have happened had a friggin' firefight happened? What if they shot one of you?”

Maddy shook her head. “Ain't happenin'. Gun's not loaded.”

Starbuck's jaw fell and looked down at the gun in his hand. Depressing the mag release he dropped the mag, examined it then let it fall to earth. After doing a slide check his eyes were seen to triple in size finding the chamber empty as well. Unbeknownst to the others, including Clementine, the gun had been empty since that day AJ had shot Tenn that second time. Had AJ not kept the gun wiped down and in the small of his back the gun would have collected dust or rust from disuse for want of ammo.   
  
The new leader of the Delta spun in place and advanced in Clem's direction, shaking the murder weapon in his hand, voice rising as he spoke.

“What is this? What the _fuck_ is this! You tell me how important, how much AJ _means_ to you and yet he wanders the woods with an empty fucking gun! Appears I gave you more credit than you deserve!”

“Don't you talk down to me! Don't you fucking _DARE_!” Clem roared back. 

A familiar voice spoke up off to Clem's side. The gun's empty, Clem?” The voice belonging to Ruby. “You told us it was still loaded.”

Omar came next. “AJ's been unarmed all this time?”

The straw that broke the camel's back came in the form of a hand gently grasping her shoulder belonging to Louis, turning she was met with the sorrowful brown eyes of her boyfriend.

_Is this true?_

If everyone was astonished and horrified at this sudden revelation so to was our heroine, if not more so. “I – I didn't know. I thought it was.” Looking over she spied the crestfallen youth and made her displeasure known. “Alvin Junior! Is this true? Why didn't you tell me!”

Tell her what? That his last bullet got pumped into the forehead of his best friend, sparing his few remaining friends the heartbreak of seeing Tenn as a walker? Was this not the woman who said he could now be trusted to make decisions on his own and an hour later chose to save Violet's life over that of Tenn's on that bridge? And lest we forget that it was Clem who told AJ to strike down Lilly after she begged for mercy. The nerve! The gall! Who the hell does she think she is? ! Some parent! Some protector! Some – Some – Some – ah fuck it.

AJ felt his face flush and spoke into his chest. “I – I'm sorry, Clem. Really I am. I must of dropped it somewhere.” Liar. “I wanted to tell you. Honest I did. But I was too – em – em – embarrassed.”

“Oh, if this – ” Starbuck began, massaging his temples, “if this doesn't take the cake. IS WHAT YOU ALL WANT?!” He bellowed, looking at each kid in turn. “Are all you pricks trying to give me a brain aneurysm?! Incredible. Just incredible. I genuinely thought you were one on a million, Clem. With all that you and your cohorts did. Repelling Lilly's attack here, then attacking the _Fitzgerald_.” He paused and pointed in AJ's direction with one hand, holding the useless gun in the other. “But now this.”

Peering down and cradling his head in one hand he remained silent for several moments before looking back up, arms now held akimbo.

“So. Deal's off, huh? So be it.” Terror was felt surging up through the very grounds of the school then coursing through their bodies as Starbuck barked off a series of instructions to his now fully assembled team, the eyes of both leaders locked together. 

“Zack, cut that line you used to scale the wall and chuck it! Ho-Jon, find a perch and cover the gates! Linc, take Josiah back to that shack and make it comfy! That's gonna be our jump off point! Maddy! Take Lady G back and grab Razz, Tin Tin and Ally! Have them bring extra provisions and ammo!” Starbuck about-faced and began walking away but not before proclaiming. “We're laying siege to the school.”

“NO!”

“Well fucking done, Clem!”

“Clem, do something!”

“Are you fucking serious?!”

“Not again!”

“Clem, I'm scared!”

Clem looked into the little tike's puppy dog brown eyes and felt her heart ripped out of her chest. Looking back she found Starbuck had stopped, with a gaze she felt piercing straight through her.

“Why I shouldn't? I offer an olive branch and you wipe your ass with it. Yes, one of my people fucked up but the only casualty were his family jewels. I was naïve to think you capable of being mature enough to bargain with in the first place. Love me, hate me, _whatever_! That community is real, honey. Dollars with get you donuts that community will fall on this place like a pestilence, wiping out all those you love! Then they'll use this place and launch their attack on _my_ people! I should burn this fucking hole to the ground and deprive them its use. We'll see how recalcitrant you all are after your first week without food and no access to the outdoors. Think of the look on poor AJ's face, Clem, the first time you're forced to deny him a meal.

Clem was transported back in time to the early months of the outbreak, back at the Travelier Motor Inn with Lee and her first group. Then food Mark had brought with him had nearly run out, forcing Lilly to begin rationing it out. During this Kenny and Lee were busy sneaking back into two and grabbing whatever meds and food they found before they were spotted.

My oh what a risky venture. And yet all that risk, the intrinsic danger, all those near misses – only to have the fruits of their labors stolen by that quisling, Ben. That wet nap of a man who had brokered a deal with a group of bandits behind everyone's back and had been giving away those precious supplies in exchange for being left alone.

Many a night since her reunion with Lilly had Clem spent thinking back on those early days and wondered when everything just went to absolute shit. Long had it been believed that it had been the death of Lilly's dad which spelled the group's doom, the event which accelerated Lilly's descent into madness. But as time went on her opinion of the matter changed and evolved.

It was Ben, plain and simple. Ben and his wheeling and dealing with those bandits. The realization that supplies were missing was just the beginning, what got the ball rolling regarding Lilly's paranoia, towards her fellow survivors. Within twenty-four hours Mark, Larry, Doug, Katjaa and Duck would lay dead.

Had Ben not made that deal they could have told the St. John' brothers to shove off meaning Mark and Larry would both be alive. Had those bandits not stopped getting their meds they wouldn't have attacked, during the melee Duck was bitten. Had no deal been struck Lilly would not have confronted Ben with her suspicions, Doug would be alive. Doug caught Lilly aiming her Glock at the back of Ben's head and pushed the man out of the way, saving the traitor's life – and sacrificing his own. Later that day Kenny would lose his family, Katjaa committing suicide and Kenny forced to shoot their only child to prevent reanimation.

Who knows how differently history would have turned out had Lilly not been left along the roadside with Doug's still warm corpse laying at her feet. Had Larry not had another heart attack or had miraculously survived it the group may have continued more or less intact.

Yeah well – wish in one hand, want in another. See which gets full faster. 

A group of hungry people with little to no food. A recipe for disaster. At least that group had an RV. Once the late Floridian got the RV up and running they had the means to travel. Back at the school, in the backwoods of the West Virginia, they had no such luxury. There was no Kenny to repair that truck at the fishing shack nor the car out past the entrance, neither was he available to resurrect Clem's car at the train station.

Clem knew all too well what would happen were the school to be laid under siege. It would suck but the degree of suck would only get worse as the days continued as fear, hunger, and nerves increased. Their remaining food stores would be rationed and guarded, then the bickering and accusations of favoritism would start, the confines of the walls would begin to make them claustrophobic. Next would come the accusations and name calling, the arguments and confrontations culminating in the first punch being thrown. How long before someone grabbed a knife, a hammer, or a bottle and killed someone? Marlon cracked Brody's skull open with a flashlight. Don't forget this was a school for 'troubled youth' after all. Murder occurring again – whether intentional or unintentional – was well within the realm of possibility, if not probability.

Who would break first? Clem hedged her bets on Willy. The Gollum-looking teen had that bent of anger which was just a powder keg in danger of combusting given the right set of circumstances. Omar? While he may not have the violent streak of the other residents of the school, past or present, his paranoid delusions were more than capable of being the match to light the fuse which would lead to a fight, descending into an all-out bar brawl comprising of teens and young adults. 

AJ would defend his Clem to the death – Oh, please no...

_AJ..._

Yes, AJ. Come what may AJ must never be put in a position to choose where his true loyalties lie when it came between her and the others. She found herself in that very situation many winters ago, forced to chose between Jane and Kenny. Too many good people had sacrificed themselves, protecting her, helping her so Clementine could be here today. Too many sacrifices had been made getting AJ to this point as well. Too many groups had she witness dissolve into chaos or tear itself apart one reason or another. As Abraham Lincoln had once said from the floor of the Illinois State Capital, 'A house divided against itself, cannot stand.' The best way to survive this ordeal was to stay together, united. After all they had been through before the duo's arrival, everything they had fought and some had even died protecting, would be lost.

_No. I can't let that happen! WON'T let that happen! Not to AJ!_

But _damn_ the man for recognizing AJ as her Achilles heel! All the bravado, the toughness, the grit, the determination, the resolve; all those things which served to temper and harden her over the years. All that combined became an impregnable wall protecting and insulating herself and AJ from others. All those experiences and hardships which turned that scared and innocent eight year old into the woman, protector and leader she had become. 

Now the very thought of AJ being made to suffer because of her felt like she had been punched in the solar plexus, that protective wall mentioned earlier had been punched through by a bulldozer or toppled by a wrecking ball. It left her feeling exposed and afraid.

Starbuck stood, picturing the gears as they screeched and groaned in protest within Clem's head. He knew she would try to conjure up some miracle, figure some plan to extradite themselves from this plight and save them one last time. Unbeknownst to the residents, it wasn't needed.

They never were in any danger. Not by the Delta, at least.

Laying siege to the school was the last thing on Starbuck's mind, his last gambit if diplomacy failed. What success would a siege gain? The occupants now dead, the school torched. Now what? With its population dead what use was the school to him? The land was of no use to him. They lacked the bodies to defend the territory now controlled. Not only that how much time did a siege grant his people? Months? Weeks? Days? Hell, as they lay siege the very empire he was trying to desperately to save may be assailed, even at this very moment. What casualties amongst his own people would occur during a siege? Walkers weren't going to vacation in Cancún, sipping Mai Tais, working on their tans while survivors attack each other. Even without the help of the school his people would continue to be on continuous patrol, constantly on edge, wondering when they themselves would be attacked, from where and what would become of them if they failed.

Relying on his long dormant skills acquired from years spent on the stage in high school and college Starbuck felt confident in his acting chops. His portrayal and subsequent performance as Stanley was testimony to that. Now that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak, it was time to try a different tact. Earlier he gave a lesson from Leadership 101 for this last trick up his sleeve he pulled a card out of the lesson book from Bullying 101.

_Power perceived is power achieved._

If he could just convince these miscreants that he was the ruler of some mighty superpower, the great and powerful wizard of Oz he could completely convince them to help and by extension, help themselves. him and his subjects. Tugging on Clem's heartstrings regarding the possibility of AJ suffering undoubtedly helped get the ball moving. He took absolutely no pride in using such back-handed tactics but desperate times call for desperate measures and they were desperate. Be that as it may he held no delusions that they would be up shit creek if Clem realized just how vulnerable the Delta had become. Or worse, called his bluff.

“You're lucky I don't kill you right now.” Clem growled.

_A day without a death threat is like a day without sunshine for me, sweetie. Your mouth's writing checks you body can't cash._  
  
Better keep that thought to himself. Instead he waved an irritated hand. “Fine! Whatever! I came here for business partner, not a BFF!

_If it wasn't for AJ I'd rip off your testicles and feed them to Rosie._

Meanwhile, Starbuck had his own thoughts.

_Why do I have War stuck in my head? 'Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends?' What was that Selby said in High School? 'There's irony in Literature because there's irony in life.'_

“Hold on a sec.” Maddy called out as she dismounted. “How's about letting me talk to her woman to woman, huh Starbuck?” Starbuck stepped aside and waved a hand as if to say 'by all means' or 'have at it'.

Maddy mock-curtsied. “Much obliged. “Don't know about you two,” she said, looking at the two heads of state, “but I've got questions and I'm sure you guys do to. How about everyone simmer down a little and we play twenty questions?”

Maddy's boss frowned in thought then raised an eyebrow. “Interesting proposition. I'm game.”

Turning to Starbuck's counterpart she asked. “Whatcha say? Sorry, didn't catch the name.” “Clementine. Let's do it.”

The Delta's leader approved of this compromise. “Very well. It's cooling down. Let's get a fire going. Since we all have questions we need some system to keep things even-Steven. Any suggestions, Maddy?”

Clem spoke up. “Grab your cards, Lou.”

As Louis stood and went off in search of his cards the others prepared for the Q&A. First they moved a table closer to the fire whilst Starbuck and Aasim collected firewood from the confines of the Admin. With a roaring fire now going Louis returned, cards in hand, and the teams were then assembled. 

The ranks of Team Delta were rather sparse, consisting only of three players. Ho-Jon, and Linc had no love of card games so while Ho-Jon left to stand watch Linc opted instead to spread out his massive frame on the other table and catch a few Zs. As Josiah remained on Starbucks's until deemed otherwise he spent his time taking care of Lady G getting her settled in for the night.

Team Ericson comprised the following participants: Willy and Omar at one end of the table, Omar sitting directly across from Zachariah. Clem, AJ and Louis sat across from Starbuck and the third and final team comprised Ruby and Aasim, the Indian sitting at the opposite end of the table with Ruby facing Maddy. 

Violet, who had uttered nary a syllable since denied access to the dorms, contented herself to sulk, leaning against the brickwork outside of the dorms. She stood in her usual pose when in this mood: arms still crossed, foot braced up against the wall, looking as pleasant as a cat thrown in a pool. Vi had been invited to join and answered by turning her body even further away from that of the friends. Starbuck suggested Maddy try her womanly charm on the blonde since he had given up but even her attempts fell flat. Even Starbuck commenting that he was falling in love with the back of Vi's head but failed to garner a response.

“Alright, Lou. What's the game?”

Since the word 'cards' was mentioned the kid with the dreads once again became his old buoyant self, moving around animatedly. Forming his hands into make believe pistols he pointed them at each other and moved them back and forth.

_War! Each team draws a card. High card wins. No repeat questions!_

“Did he just say 'war'?” Zachariah groaned. “Christ, why not Go Fish?”

“Don't give 'im no ideas.” Maddy warned.

“House rules, people. Go ahead and deal, Louis.”

The self proclaimed greatest-card-player-that-ever-lived shuffled his cards with must gusto and enthusiasm, dealing the following: to Ruby and Aasim went the nine of clubs, Maddy got the ten of spades, Starbuck received the Ace of diamonds; securing the first hand, Zachariah picked up the three of clubs off of the ground after Louis inadvertently overshot his mark, Willy and Omar got the King of Spades while the trio got the five of spades. 

After briefly basking in the glory of victory he leaned back arms crossed, and with a smug look on his face, asked the opening question.

“So, what is this place?”

Willy answered. “Ericson's School For Troubled Youth.”

A chuckle left the questioner, lines of warm mirth forming at the corners of his eyes. “A school for miscreants and juvenile delinquents. How fitting.”

Ruby was next to deal, Clem commenting on how rarely Rube was seen playing cards.

“Well. Don't care for 'em normally but ah'm curious hearin' what's on ev'ryone's mind.”

Ruby's indifference with cards showed when the redhead dealt pure crap except to Clem's team who won the hand with the King of clubs. Much grousing could be heard form the other players. Allegations of shenanigans, favoritism, nepotism and all other types of '-isms' were heard as Clementine took command of the floor and asked the first question for Team Ericson.  
  
“Well, go me.” She said in triumph, feeling more relaxed as a smile spread across her face, the oppressive feeling of tension loosening its grasp. “So. Starbuck – how did _you_ come to take over after Lilly?”

His answer was not what she, nor anyone, expected.

Starbuck emitted a groan, rolling in the back of his head until only the whites showed. Collapsing onto the table he remained, motionless for several seconds before pulling himself up and belched.

“A simple 'yes' or 'no' question was too much to ask.” He sighed again. “Very well. Kick back and relax, children. It's Storytime with Uncle Starbuck.”

Looking to see that each former pupil got themselves comfortable for what he promised would be a long saga. With their undivided attention secured he looked up as the first stars could be seen and began his account of his rise to power and the background of the place called home – the Delta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Jonah reference isn't a reference to the Biblical story of Jonah and the whale but actually is a fictional character from the American Civil War, a caricature of a person who can't do anything right. Jonah was the one who puts out the fire while making his coffee, knocks over his brother in arms meals, ruins his shoes while chopping wood - a fuck up.


	10. Origins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we REALLY put the 'fic' into FanFic beginning with this chapter. Hope you enjoy and be sure to leave a comment

The Delta wasn't a single community nor was it a single nation or federation, rather, it consisted of three hamlets collectively known as the Delta. Each district did its own thing due to the Delta being free of any central command structure. This autonomy allowed each district to run their show as each deemed fit. One thing uniting the districts together was the practice of borrowing or loaning out of residents as hired help when additional muscle was necessary for such projects as the construction of new shelters, the cultivation of crops, or the repairing of bridges.

From South to North the three districts were: Huntington, West Virginia; population of approximately one hundred and twenty souls, southwest of Gallipolis, Ohio; population – around eighty. Finally, the little slice of heaven Starbuck et al called home, Woodsfield; population of forty two.

His tenure with the Delta had began as a resident of Gallipolis several years prior. Calendars having become a thing of the past he placed it around 2006 when he first arrived. Without the aid of calendars he employed a knowledge of astronomy and by noting which celestial bodies were visible along with their position in the night sky, was able to gauge the change of the seasons more accurately. After what was estimated as two years he and several others comprised a labor party and were transferred to Woodsfield. It was then Starbuck had his introduction with Abel.

And Lilly. 

Of those currently at the school none knew how Lilly came to become head of Woodsfield but, like they say, opinions are like assholes – everybody got one. The juiciest story held that she herself led a bloody coup against the previous ruler, others said it was a coup but a bloodless one. One theory went so far to say two men, both vying for power, fought to the death and with both dead Lilly merely snatched up the crown and sashayed her way onto the throne.

How Lilly came to power is irrelevant to our story. What is relevant was what prompted Starbuck's presence in the first place.

An old barge known as the_ SS Stewarts Fitzgerald_.

The _Fitzgerald_ or the _SS Lockjaw_ as Starbuck so eloquently called it, was nothing more than a hundred-and-forty-foot-tetanus-shot-requiring-rust-bucket-piece-of-shit. Yet the old scow was Woodsfield's claim to fame and therefore Lilly's pride and joy regardless of how detrimental it was to the community. 

How they came to acquire the Fitzgerald was mired in as much mystery as were Lilly's origins. All that was known was that she had begun her career as a steam-powered freight ship and Starbuck despised everything about it since first laying eyes on the dilapidated hulk. The rationale for the deeply rooted contempt came from those very steam-powered engines. For those unfamiliar steam is generated by the heating of water to a temperature of two hundred and twelve degrees Fahrenheit (or one hundred degrees Celsius for ninety-five percent of the world). In a steam powered vessel this is achieved by the burning coal in her boiler to the previously mentioned temperature – in the good 'ol days. 

With those days well and truly gone, along with the discovery that coal – in its natural state – isn't found in convenient, easy to carry bags. This realization, as one can imagine, was a bit of a downer. As with many things in life one must adopt, adapt and improve. In an attempt to remedy this problem Woodsfield and her populace extended their finite supply of coal by reducing the amount of coal used and supplementing it with another readily available fuel source.

Wood.

A _lot_ of wood. A metric _shit_-ton. An obnoxious, abominable, odious, not to mention downright annoying quantity of wood. So much wood that in order to maintain the eighty-twenty mix of wood to coal teams would spend the better part of a month chopping and hauling wood just to sail the Fitz for two or three days. Along with the wood required for the ship wood was still obligatory for the day to day operation and maintenance of Woodsfield itself. This cost in labor, as well as manpower, far exceeded its gains. Wood may be an advantageous facsimile for coal but wood combusts at a lower temperature than does bituminous coal and therein lies the rub.   
  
Performance suffered.

With wood being such a lack-luster substitute when used conjointly with coal to serve a ship's boiler the engines were only capable of operating at twenty percent efficiency. This effectively gave the ship the breakneck speed of four knots – that's a brisk walking pace – as long as they traveled downstream with full sails, the wind at their backs and all hands behind the ship doggy paddling.

As if the ship's piss-poor efficacy wasn't bad enough Lilly allowed something that that drove Starbuck up the proverbial wall. Whomever was on deck was permitted to take pot shots at any walkers along the shore. As if a ship didn't generate enough noise and attention now this lack of fire discipline resulted in the sound of gunfire echoing for miles in all points of the compass and wasted precious ammunition. Once Starbuck took control he promised to break the fingers of any man or woman caught firing on full auto.

But we're here to talk about Starbuck.

To make a long story short the two had never been bosom buddies and barely tolerated one another's existence until a fight broke out between them one day and Starbuck found his company was no longer wanted and found himself shipped back to Gallipolis. Though he may be kicked out it didn't prohibit him from being recycled into the Delta's rotation of lend-lease labor. This meant he was still considered an essential worker when it came time for the tilling and harvesting of crops, chopping of wood or whatever else was needed for Woodsfield – so long as he kept a respectable distance. Who would've thought that years after all the judges and lawyers were dead and gone people could still get slapped with a restraining order.

A critical error made by the boss lady involved Starbuck being free to interact with Woodsfield's residents. It was there and then he plotted his rebellion.

When you spend the better part of two years in the same place, whether it be a job, the same apartment floor, or college dorm you tend to learn things about those around you. The personalities, the quarks, who they roll with, even who's porkin' who. All you have to do is pay attention to those idiosyncrasies, seek out that which you wish to know. In a community the size of Woodsfield this was no different, the biggest difference being the type of information Starbuck searched for. As time went on, with each person interacted with, he ascertained those whose loyalty remained with Lilly and those receptive to a command change. Those labor parties allowed a constant influx of different people to pass his scrutiny since each party rotated weekly or until that particular project was completed. By asking carefully worded questions he was able to gauge each person's willingness. The lessons learned from these interactions would not be lost on Starbuck by the time he came to the school. 

Nevertheless, he understood the importance of discretion. One false step – just one word to the wrong person and the jig was up.

Finding displeasure amongst the masses concerning Lilly's heavy-handed rule was easier than expected. Many despised the favoritism she showered upon her harem of brown-nosers, the ones receiving the cushy jobs and the perks those positions held. Some were less than enthralled at the idea of entrusting their very lives to people kidnapped from elsewhere and made to fight. Others despised the whip, the infamous cat o' nine tails, Woodsfield's preferred method of punishment, the number of lashes doled out by dictated by the severity of the infraction. Work for Lilly long enough and you were bound to find yourself on the receiving end of the whip. It was the use of the whip which aided Starbuck in gaining his first recruit, Josiah. Unsurprising here was someone who themselves on the receiving end of the lash on many occasions. A certifiable Pain In the Ass Josiah may be Starbuck could not help but be appreciative of the loyalty the fuck up had shown in those early days. Truth be told, it was that level of devotion and loyalty which kept him from downright straggling Josiah when he arrived at the school. 

Zachariah and Linc followed suit shortly thereafter followed by Maddy weeks later. Ho-Jon switched allegiance once the Asian divined which way the political winds blew, grateful to be rid of both Armando, who perished aboard the ship and Cole, one of those picked for elimination.

When word arrived that Lilly and her hand picked crew set sail for parts unknown Starbuck agonized as a golden opportunity came and went being unable to mount his power play while still sequestered to the outlaying reaches of the settlement. Although finding allies had been relatively easy with the continuous shuffling of workers from one district to the next the difficulty now was maintaining a sufficient number of bodies to kick off the power bid. What's more, notwithstanding having enough supporters it was still imperative that he be inside Woodsfield so as to direct his forces and likewise be on hand to see the coup d'état through to its successful conclusion. For the best chance at success he first needed an updated view of the lay of the land and knowledge of who was left inside. Back and forth he paced like a caged tiger, fuming at his wretched luck. He had the plan, the necessary skill sets, the drive, he even had the big kahuna and a sizable number of her cronies out of town. All that was missing was something to bring him back. Something to welcome him back into the fold.

That something came in the form of a sixteen year old and her posse.

Word of Lilly just getting bitch-slapped by a rag tag group of adolescents reverberated throughout Woodsfield. All construction projects and outside field work was suspended, all hands ordered to return and report in by proclamation of Lilly's second in command. To Starbuck's elation he was ordered back as well.

It was showtime.

And so began a chess game which defied the rules, Lilly having already staged her pieces into an offensive position. Now her opponent had arrived and had taken his seat at the board.

Having made his triumphant return the first order of business was to reconnoiter the area and see what and who had changed. Initially it was troubling to find many of those earlier recruited had since returned to their place of origin whether it be Gallipolis or Huntington, during the interim. By no means did this spell the ruination of his plans, instead it merely meant there would be less available manpower when:

BREAKING NEWS:  
FITZGERALD SUNK  
LOSS OF ALL HANDS

_Zip-a-dee-doo-DAH, zip-a-dee-AY_  
_My, oh, my, what a wonderful day!_

Don't you love it when things work themselves out in your favor? Nothing like the unanticipated elimination of the majority of your competition to brighten one's day. The biggest quandary now facing Starbuck was being forced to move his rebellion's timetable up sooner than desired. Be that as it may, if a revolution was to be had he must act before the remaining members organized and retaliated.

“When you blew up our boat and killed her crew you effectively cut off our leadership's head. The time came for me to swoop in and break its back.” 

From the moment word reached Woodsfield of the loss of the Fitzgerald and that of her crew the new emperor swore vengeance and began amassing a force to strike Ericson's. If this attack was allowed to get under way the only result would be more senseless bloodshed. If one truly craved the crown there must be something to rule. Regrettably, in order to prevent what Starbuck perceived would be nothing short of wholesale slaughter he understood that some of his own must die first. In order to save lives some lives must be lost. 

Yeah, that makes sense. About as much as Stevie Wonder becoming an Interior Decorator.

Si vis pacem parabellum*.

It was imperative that the last of Lilly's toadies, as well as her replacement, be eliminated. With the Fitzgerald having been deep sixed** horses were now the only means left to move the necessary men and materiel into position. This would give Starbuck the precious time needed to plan and put such plans into action. However, as he plotted and relayed those plans to his collaborators none were excused from the preparations for the up and coming assault. Fortunately, by staying under the radar and not drawing unnecessary attention to himself few people noticed his frequent absences as he sketched out the coup.

After two near-sleepless days, half a dozen secret rendezvous and more than a few close shaves his plans were set and each actors briefed as to what part each were to play in the final production. 

Of the original pieces, the queen (Lilly), both rooks (Abel and Sullene), a knight (Dorian) and several pawns (Minerva, Michael, Gina, Gad, Armando, and Yonatan) had been lost. The first person ear-marked for elimination would be Spencer, head of arms and equipment. The sole remaining knight.  
  
It's not necessary to be -ex Air Force, such as Lilly, nor is it even necessary to be -ex military to understand the importance of leadership by example. It's the ideal work model one would hope to be implemented in the workplace for numerous fields and occupations – key word being 'ideal'. This insurrection had been his brainchild from the onset. That being so Starbuck intended to do all the dirty work himself. The reason why CEOs get paid the big bucks compared to the workers is because they're the ones who take on the risk, the ones who invest the capital, the ones who take out the bank loans, applying them to the business which can either sink or swim depending on how the business functions, the state of the economy, or whether consumers uses the goods or services provided by the business. If the business folds the worker can move on to greener pastures while the business owner may not be so lucky. 

If Starbuck failed, if his business folds – 

He was a dead man.

Once his part was completed it it would be up to his confederates to suppress, or better yet, the prevent any attempts at resistance until the coup d'état had accomplished its primary objectives. 

In order for the plan to work it was crucial he strike first, strike fast and strike hard. To do so otherwise would grant the opposition sufficient time to circle the wagons and cause a long and drawn out fight, resulting in more casualties; the very thing he wished to avoid.

He knew his first mark would be locate inside one of their supply tents, preoccupied in checking their stockpile of grenades ensuring each fuse was in working order before being distributed to the assault teams. Aided by a moonless night he slowly and carefully stalked towards the tent. The light from a flashlight shone from the interior of a tent and the unmistakable raspy voice of the target greeted Starbuck's ears. Not long after the man's face was briefly illuminated by the light of the flashlight which made Starbuck smile knowing his quarry was right where he wanted him.

The story was again paused this time to show his rapt audience the tool used to dispatch Spencer. A rock, a stick – hell, even a board with nail in it were the only weapons more primitive than the one pulled a vest pocket. It was nothing more than a segment of coat hanger bent into shape resembling a semi-opened paper clip. Starbuck explained its functionality having observed the clueless congregation, its end being thrust into the victim's brain via the ear canal, killing the person instantly.

“Quick, clean and humane. Used this more times than I care to count. Made it to keep those on death's door from turning. There's little blood compared to using a gun or a knife. Silent, doesn't need ammo, doesn't need sharpened.” He stopped and looked reflective, his voice taking on a softer quality. “When you're done the person looks peaceful – like they're asleep. Easier coping with someone's death when they're not all covered in blood and shit. Probably sounds like a line of bullshit coming from someone like me but its true.” It was reassuring, and at the same time disconcerting, to see several of them nodding in agreement while others sadly looked down and knew they too had similar experiences as friends and former students died off one by one. Judging by the size of this place there had been no shortage of death before the Delta's arrival.

No sooner had Spencer's body hit the ground, the corpse convulsing at the sudden trauma to the brain, Starbuck's heart stopped as a ruckus was heard from the opposite side of the tent. Looking up a human form was seen scampering under the tent in an effort to warn the others of the murder. Cursing all that was holy he took off in hot pursuit and just as all seemed lost Lady Luck smiled down in the form of an exposed tree root which sent the fugitive sprawling to the floor, crying out for help as he attempted to get to his feet. Starbuck descended upon the prostrate form in a flash. After a brief struggle and after obtaining an advantageous position he snapped the witness's neck. Running back to the now motionless body of Spencer he gave the man the same merciful death.

Starbuck stood stock-still, his head on a swivel, all five senses running on overdrive. The man's pleas for help may or may not have been heard by others. 

He wasted precious time looking down at the man who's life had just extinguished – who's life he had just extinguished – and shook his head in sorrow at the waste of it all. Scarcely thirty seconds into the mission and things were already going askew. He didn't recognize the man, didn't even know his name. Nothing. Wrong place, wrong time. The corpse which lay at he feet could have been a valuable asset to Starbuck's burgeoning empire. Instead it was not a person, just another heaping lump of dead guy. 

Of all the deaths that were to occur that day this was the only one which weighed heavily on his conscious. This death wasn't part of the plan, wasn't warranted. Yet it couldn't be avoided. What could he have done differently? What recourse was there? The wheels were in motion, the train of revolution gathering steam and people were slatted to die this day – even Starbuck if need be. One can't make an omelet without first cracking some eggs. There was more to be done that day, more blood to be spilled before the work was completed. Nothing must be allowed to stop him. Just a few more moves and then checkmate.

Up next, the bishops and the king.

Until now Clem believed Abel was Lilly's right hand but as Starbuck continued she learned this was not so. While Abel was one of her lackeys he was slightly higher up on the leadership hierarchy than most. Instead, the true right hand remained behind in the relative safety of Woodsfield.

Loric.

Based on his reconnaissance conducted over the past couple of days Starbuck concluded that if the ship's crew were well and truly dead only three people stood in his way to the top: Cole, Ramona and Loric. By no means was the man a physical specimen straight out of Greek mythology with pulsating biceps and rocking a six pack. Nonetheless, he was a top notch administrator which is why Lilly left him in charge.

Dragging the bodies behind stacks of ammo boxes and pallets and covered them with a tarp he next allowed himself a few moments to get his jack hammering heart back under control and listened for approaching footsteps. Hearing none he exited the tent and walked past the weapons tent were Linc stood sentinel, according to plan. Linc's responsibility was to stop anyone who tried to gain access the weapons tent or cut down anyone who tried to launch a counterattack from that area. Starbuck continued, avoiding others as much as possible – not daring to speak for fear that his voice or even body language may somehow raise suspicion or devolve into idle talk which could blow the whistle on the whole enchilada.

Spying a coil of rope and a pair of empty ammo cans he slung the rope over one shoulder and picked up the cans and walked purposefully, trying to look busy. Further on another welcome sight greeted him taking the form of nine Delta members, some sitting, others standing. Each diligently working on a rifle laying in varying stages of disassembly for cleaning, ensuring each gun was ready and raring to go when the offensive commenced. Two familiar faces were busy packing ruck sacks with the necessary accoutrements for the long trek to the school and victory in two days hence.

His pieces now set the time had come for his subsequent moves. He would have to act before someone noticed Spencer was MIA, or worse, found the bodies. If the coup took a turn for the worse Starbuck had devised a contingency plan for just such an eventuality: plausible deniability.

If the revolt looked as though it were take a turn for the worse in the opening stages all participants were to fall in with Loric and pretend to be shocked and surprised. Starbuck was more than willing to stick his butt in the air to displace Loric but was not willing to throw other lives away if possible. He admitted this was naive thinking but perhaps if others took no part it may just save their lives and make Starbuck out to be some renegade usurper acting alone. Thus far the other players were all staged while the lead actor of their little production was the only one with blood on his hands.

Just beyond the table were the main objectives, Loric and his two lieutenants – the king and the two bishops. The three were in conference standing around two fifty-five gallon drums and a pallet converted into a makeshift table where they scrutinized and annotated a rudimentary map of their proposed route and plan of attack. Loric had no intentions of repeating Lilly's mistakes and ordered Cole and Ramona to lead an assault team of six each under the cover of darkness and infiltrate Ericson's by scaling the walls to either side, bypassing the gates altogether.

As everyone who knew the school's exact location had suffered a bout of sudden death only one person remained who had the slightest inkling as to its approximate location from an earlier foray. Apart from the approximate location and that it was a school inhabited by a bunch of kids that was the extent of knowledge of the school. A small scouting party would fan out ahead of the assault teams until they ascertained the school's location and reported back and then the attack would begin. 

Dropping his load Starbuck sauntered over to the trio and asked permission to be part of the coming offensive. The relationship between the two was only slightly more cordial than that which had existed between Starbuck and the late Abel. There seemed, in Starbuck's opinion, some inexplicable reason why people found him so off-putting. He had always found himself to be rather debonair and outgoing. He had a certain je ne sais quoi – an appealing quality that words can't express. Alas, his assistance was not needed. Not to put too fine point on it, his help wasn't wanted in any way, shape or form. Loric called Starbuck a shitbird in possession of carnal knowledge of a particular type of farm animal. With that being said Loric turned his back to resume his discussion. Starbuck was a man who long ago had developed a thick skin and was able to take the affront in stride, why he even managed to smile.

Then he struck.

Reaching into the small of his back he extracted the weapon constructed solely for this day. Just for Loric. 

Whereas the coat hanger was intended to be quick, clean and humane this weapon was anything but. This tool was designed to cause shock and awe in others while the victim was made to suffer excruciatingly as their life slowly ebbed away. Its construction was crude yet effective and consisted of two pieces. The first, a small green tree limb a few inches long split halfway down its axis and the second being an extra large zip tie partially ratcheted down forming a loop, its the standing end being placed inside the split of the branch. 

Holding the primitive garrote in his fist with the zip tie held between the ring and middle fingers, he placed the zip tie over Loric's head and gave it a yank. Starbuck maintained pressure on the branch for a fraction of a second before letting go as the zip tie did its magic as it constricted around Loric's neck, cutting off his trachea's flow of air. Loric squirmed on the ground, legs pumping in the air, hands furiously clawing at the unknown object starving his brain of vitally needed oxygen. Cole and Ramona stood rooted in place as they looked on in horror at their leader in his death throes. Neither saw the gun as it was pulled from its holster and barked twice, the first round striking Ramona in the temple, the other slammed into Cole's frontal lobe before his brain had time to register the sound of the initial shot. 

In the blink of an eye both bishops, and the king, were dead.

Checkmate.

The pair of gunshots was the signal for his accomplices to do their part: neutralize any possible resistance.

As Linc held fast at the arms tent the pair who were busy loading packs dropped what they were doing and drew concealed weapons, easily dominating those engaged in weapon cleaning as they were too stunned at this sudden display of force and violence to react. With most of Woodsfield's heavy weapons in pieces they were easily overwhelmed and found resistance futile. Loric had always been fastidious in keeping all weapons in a state of cleanliness but this very fastidiousness had been used against him and contributed to his overthrow. Study the person and learn their habits. 

In the time it takes to drink a cup of coffee and smoke a cigarette, Starbuck staged his coup d'état.

Some claimed to be glad that Loric now lay dead, having been ousted by one underestimated, assassinated by the court jester. Whether Starbuck believed them or not of them didn't matter. He was now top banana. While some still remained outside the perimeter getting the horses squared away and who no doubt heard the shots Starbuck had placed Josiah who easily disarmed them and brought in his prisoners minutes later.

“And that,” Starbuck said, having concluded his tale, “was the Dawning of the Age of Starbuck.”

“How'd they take to you taking over? I mean – why didn't they just kill you later?” Aasim asked.

“Good question. While my compadres covered the others I tied poor Loric's hands and feet together. I told the rest to join up or nut up. Meaning, join me or fight me. Not much in the line of options, I confess. And yet fate continued to sustain me since there were only two holdouts.” AJ piped up, asking. “Did you kill them?”

A shake of the head. “Certainly not. There had been enough killing the past few weeks by then. Here,” indicating the school, “on the _Fitz_, at our home. As you can well imagine, Loric turned. Had one of the naysayers held upright and gave them the following options: fall in line or give Loric a kiss.” He said with a smirk. “Behold the power of persuasion.”

“You're one sick fucker.” Willy surmised.

“Who? _Moi_? I'm as pure as the driven snow.” He said with the tiniest hit of sarcasm then gave an indifferent shrug. “Perhaps, then again considering Loric's standing orders were to kill any who fought back then hang the rest from the nearest convenient height. And knowing Cole he'd have no qualms from hanging you all from that there balcony.” He pointed to the balcony from which Abel and Clem did their synchronized swan dive. “No quarter given. Not even to AJ. Anywho, as the new head of state I gave my coronation speech and sales pitch. Seeing as I'm still alive and kickin' I must have won over the crowd. I won't delve into the hows and whys since I've already spoken long enough.” Pausing he leaned back on the bench, folding his hands in his lap. “And with that, it's time for Clem to take a break.” He said looking to the brunette.

Our starlet awoke with a start at the sound of her name. “Mmmm...what?” She said groggily, jerking up her head. 

Starbuck had droned on for nearly two hours by now. During which time Clem found the act of staying awake to be laborious, her eyes and head feeling like dead weight. Since nary a functioning clock existed there remained no means of knowing the time with the exception of guessing by the sun's placement in the sky. Since her recuperation Clem could function for a solid six hours before Mr. Sandman brought her a dream. Little did anyone realize it but since Starbuck's dramatic reveal Clementine had been awake for the better part of twelve hours. Asking for one's attention for an hour isn't asking too much, just ask any teacher or college professor. Anything beyond that, especially for a sixteen year old who hadn't set foot inside a classroom for nigh on a decade amounted to cruel and unusual punishment. Not only that her body still ached from her earlier balancing act.

“Go to bed, Clem. We'll pick back up later.”

“The fuck I will...not my fucking boss...” She meekly protested. Fatigue caused those protestations to sound weak and feeble. Instead of sounding powerful and assertive her mood instead was cantankerous, the voice resembling a testy and crabby toddler who refuses to take a nap or denies they're tired when asked. Even as she glared at the man across from her, defiant to the last, they all saw that head droop. 

Starbuck smirked and chuckled. “Your body says 'no no no,' but your eyes say 'yes yes yes'. Herewith. I invoke emergency dictatorial powers over all assembled! Clementine, you are hereby ordered to bed!” His voice took on a softer, more tender tone which none at Ericson's imagined a murdered, such as him, capable of. “Louis, would you take her inside, please? AJ, grab her crutches but come back out. Leave those two in peace.” 

They were touched by this act of compassion shown their friend, Louis and AJ in particular. This schizoid had seemingly done a one-eighty having gone from threatening to lay siege to the school and having killed his own people to showing a kinder, more gentler side.

Louis stood and picked her up as you would a child, Clem being too exhausted to protest instead curled herself up in those powerful arms and fell fast asleep. Smiling, Lou looked at the women he loved, kissed her forehead and looked to Starbuck.

_Thank you._  
  
Starbuck nodded. “My pleasure. Make sure she gets some sleep. Bungee strap her to the bed if you must. See you in a couple of hours.”

As the family of three headed towards the dorms Lou tried to catch the eye of Violet but the blonde still showed no interest in talking with anyone, let alone her longest friend. Louis felt that empty pit in his stomach grow seeing the back of AJ's head knowing the little guy couldn't understand why Vi was acting this way towards her friends. Lou frowned knowing there was nothing to be done and softly whistled to get AJ's attention. The trio entered and walked down the hallway towards Room 201.

Now that a third of the game's participants had vanished into the depths of the school that awkward silence once again descended over the school until Zachariah could take it no more and broke the silence.

“So...ya wanna call it a night then?” He queried, looking at each player.

“Fuck no! Let's keep this shit goin'!” Willy exclaimed.

“I agree.” Aasim added. “We can still play while they're gone.”

“Wait a sec!” Maddy interjected. “What if we have a question about what's her name – Clementine?”

“Told AJ to come back, didn't I? I'm sure he can answer on her behalf. We'll see what the little one wants to do.”

As they awaited AJ's return an ungodly, rhythmic snarl was heard causing everyone to seek out the sound's origin. 

Linc. More accurately, his snoring.

“Does he always snore like that?” Omar said.

Maddy turned and scowled. “That's why we don't let him sleep on his back. YO, LINC!” She hollered. “ROLL OVER!” The giant opened one eye, rolled onto his side and fell back asleep. Maddy rolling her eyes and muttered. “Men.”

“Hey!” Starbuck protested. “I resemble that remark.”

“Here here. My father was descended from a long line of men.” Zachariah added.

After a few more minutes of uncomfortable stabs at conversation between the remaining participants AJ finally returned, much to everyone's relief.

“Clem asleep there, AJ?” Ruby asked as AJ resumed his seat.

“Yeah. She's been asleep since we left. Never seen her this tired before. Louis said he'd be back out in a minute.”

“If I were him I'd need a lot more than a minute.” Zachariah said under his breath.

AJ looked perplexed. “Whatcha mean 'more than a minute'?” The others understood the context and tried to contain their laughter at the youth's naivete. All except Starbuck who snarled and leveled a wicked haymaker to the shoulder of the man seated next to him causing a yelp of pain. 

“Mind your Ps and Qs, prick!” He said through gritted teeth. “Never you mind, AJ. You want to keep playing or wait until they get back?”

“I dunno. What does everyone else wanna do?”

“Yer choice, little guy”

“Doubt Clem will mind.” Omar added.  
  
To this AJ smiled. “Let's play!”

“Booyah! That's the spirit, me boyo!” Starbuck exclaimed triumphantly in an Irish brogue.

AJ had never heard that word before until Louis uttered it his first day at what would become his home. It brought back pleasant memories he had forgotten back before the Raiders, when everyone at the school was alive. Marlon, Brody, Mitch – Tenn. Back when Louis still could still speak. He missed Louis' jokes and banter even if he didn't always understand. These memories made him feel a warmth and happiness none of them get to enjoy often, especially since Tenn's death. AJ invigorated and energized, any thought to sleeping himself having vanished.

“BOOYAH!” He exclaimed. This enthusiasm brought healthy laughter and smiles all around as they hunkered down to resume game play.

Apart from AJ being on a team all by his lonesome the teams remained the same. After a few minutes of bickering and arguing over who's turn it was to deal it was determined to be Maddy's. The first hand resulted in a tie between Zachariah's Ace of Clubs and AJ's Ace of Hearts. AJ reigned supreme winning the tie breaker beating the seven of clubs with a ten of Clubs.

The jubilation of victory ceased as AJ concentrated on what to ask. Another, darker memory brought him crashing back to Earth. The boyish smile vanished when asking his question.

“Did you guys attack the ranch?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Si vis pacem parabellum- Latin for 'if you want peace, prepare for war'.  
** 'deep sixed' or 'deep six' is a nautical term that means a total loss.


	11. Continuations

Maddy blinked. “Uh, could ya be just a titch more vague?”.

“The McCarroll Ranch. I lived there for awhile before Clem found me. Some people burned it down then she rescued me.”

Maddy, Starbuck and Zachariah eyed one another, curious to see if any of them held the answer.  
  
“Still drawing a blank, AJ. Does this ranch have a location? I mean, where the hell is it?”

“I dunno. I was real little then. I think Clem said it was near...Richmond?”

To this Starbuck raised an eyebrow. “Virginia? You got me. Our excursions never took us that far east.

"Yeah, sorry. Spent most of my time in Huntington until last Spring. Best people to ask are probably all dead now.” A reference to the _Fitzgerald's_ crew. “Sorry, hun.”

AJ was understandably bummed hoping against hope someone could tell him what happened at the ranch. Clem knew nothing about who was responsible. All she knew was she'd be damned admitting to killing every person she came in contact after arriving at the ranch. The first was the man who's bullet struck her horse instead of its intended target. Next, the man suffering from extensive burns over his body who wished only for death, to which Clem reluctantly obliged. The third nearly shot her before his AK jammed and as she tried to ascertain where the children were kept the bastard tried stabbing her before he was sent into the next world. Three deaths. One out of mercy, the other two actively tried to kill her.

They tried stopping her – tried killing her – just as she was nearing the end of her quest to find the child raised since birth. Those fools. That fourth death however, would leave a lasting impact never thought possible.

All Clem saw upon opening the door to where the man advised her was a woman and a Colt .45 pointed right at her. Instinct dictated shoot first, ask questions later. Those questions would be asked later and nearly everyday since after discovering the woman wasn't a soldier, wasn't some evil villain. Instead, the woman was trying to protect AJ, and died for it. She was taking care of AJ, a nurse – gun in one hand to repel the invaders – a bottle in the other – and Clem put a bullet in her brain. How do you get over something like that? Oftentimes, you don't. Clem didn't. After getting AJ buckled into their getaway vehicle and driving off into the sunrise she chucked the gun out the window where it bounded across the ground until coming to a stop.

Until the showdown with Minerva she never touched a gun again.

“My deal.” Starbuck announced and dispensed the winning hand, the Jack of Hearts, to Zachariah.

“Woot woot. So how do Clem and Lilly know each other?” The charter members of the Nineteen and Under Club stared blankly at each other until Ruby answered.

“Don't rightfully know. Vi, didn't Clem tell ya?” Violet turned and opened her mouth to speak for the first time that evening.

Sike! Gotcha! Nah, Vi remained silent.

“No one ever asked?”

“Never really seemed any reason to.”

“Hah! No reason to ask. Holy hell, Omar. You all follow her into the eye of the storm but don't ask anything about her? Now _that's_ what I call blind faith.”

“Clem always tended to keep her past to herself.” Aasim asserted.

This was partially true. Having regained consciousness after totaling the car and during the subsequent card game she had divulged some bits pertaining to her past such as briefly mentioning Lee, confessing to eating Mark's leg – which they believed was total bullshit. But of those that played that day two of them – Brody and Marlon – were dead, Lou was curled up in bed with Clem and if Ruby thought the headstrong blonde would dignify her question with a response she was sorely mistaken.

“Fantastic.” Zachariah said in exasperation, placing an elbow on the table and cradling cheek in one hand. “Four questions and only two of 'em got any real answers.”

“Bravissimo, Maddy. If memory serves, this was your brainchild.” Starbuck commenting, making no attempt to hide any trace of sarcasm. 

“Bite me! Both of you!” She said testily. “Ask her when she gets back! Your deal, Zack.” 

Maddy's Queen of Diamonds won the next hand. “God save the queen, bitches! No offense, but how old are you folks? Some of you look barely look old enough to shave.”

“Linc got ingrown toenails older than you guys.” 

“_EW_! Sick fucks! Back to something more important than toes. Like my question.” Maddy pointed to each of them going counterclockwise, starting with Aasim.

“Nineteen.”

“Eighteen.”

“Clem says six.”

“Seventeen.”

“Thirteen.”

“What about the other two and Ms. Happiness over there?”

“Vi and Louis are both eighteen, I think.” Willy guessed. “Clem's sixteen. Vi and Clem got birthdays comin' up, right Aasim?”

“Yeah. Fifteenth for Clem and fifth for Vi.”

That god awful smirk crossed Starbuck's face. “The fifth. Of November?” Aasim nodded. He stood, tilted back his head, placed a hand over his heart and in the voice of Tim Curry uttered the following:

“Remember, remember  
The fifth of November  
The Gunpowder treason and plot.  
I know of no reason.  
Why the Gunpowder treason  
Should ever be forgot.  
Guy – “  
  
“Holy fuck. Is this guy _always_ like this?” Willy wondered aloud.

“Pretty much. All the time.” Maddy answered. Her boss frowned, sat down and crossed him arms.

“Philistines.” He pouted.

A realization came to Aasim. “Oh yeah. Louis is eighteen. Nineteen next month.”

Omar and his Jack of Clubs won out and asked how far away the Delta was and to which Maddy took the liberty of fielding.

"Probably twenty miles as the crow flies but with lurkers all over the place plus walking through the woods it can easily take over a week to move that far. If ya don't get spotted first. Huntington is in the ball park of fifty, I'd wager.”

AJ took his turn as dealer and awarded Maddy with the Jack of Diamonds while Zachariah excused himself to take a leak.

“Here's a simple question for ya: What's something you miss from the old world? Ya know, the good 'ol days. Let's start from this end. Willy, right?”

“Yeah. Hot dogs. With mustard.”

“Twizzlers.”

AJ asked to be skipped for the time being but answered on behalf of Clem and Vi. “Clem said her treehouse and Violet loves chicken nuggets. Whatever those are.” AJ was unaware of it but at the mention of her name Vi looked up and scowled as personal information was voluntarily given to these child snatching assholes and honestly wished they'd all just learn to shut the fuck up. 

It's debatable whether she was in need of a hug, a stiff drink or someone to dunk her head in a bucket of ice water. What was going through her head and the reasons for feeling this way could best be explained by someone with a psychology background. As chance would have it the school's shrink had bounced long ago only to be killed on the highway near the West Virginia–Virginia border. Had he not been wearing his seat belt when that eighteen-wheeler slammed into his Corvette perhaps he might've been ejected from the car and crushed his skull. But having always been a stickler for the rules and the laws of the land he now roamed the countryside.

Let that be a lesson for you. When your time is up, your time is up.

Again we're digressing. Back to the game.

“Chicken nuggets? Kee-_RIST_! You even know what those are made from?”

“Don't matter.” Aasim quipped. “Louis would of course say his vinyl record collection.”

“Wish we 'em. Then we can burn that fucking piano.” Willy added. This elicited a chuckle from everybody, including Starbuck even though he himself was an accomplished piano player as we have seen.

With a smile on her face Maddy now turned to AJ. “How 'bout you little duder?”

His face fell. “I don't know. Never knew a world without monsters. Louis said the world wasn't that great anyways. He said it was,” Pausing mid-sentence AJ nervously looked over both shoulders, afraid that Clem might overhear, “pretty shitty.” The look on his face and how he whispered the word swear brought roars of laughter to the participants. Seeing that no one seemed to mind the swear AJ joined in the jocularity as well. 

Eventually, the laughter subsided as Starbuck wiped a tear from his eye. “Glory be that's rich. Well boyo, shame on him for spreading such falsehoods. The world's a beautiful place. Still is. Even with the dead roaming the streets. It's when you start throwing people into the mix that the world begins to suck or become,” Air quotes. “shitty. Is there anything you'd like to have, do, experience? Maybe something others have talked about?”

AJ brows furrowed and cradled his chin in concentration as the others waited patiently, curious to know what the squirt would say. He then smiled and standing up in his seat, spread out his arms and shouted. 

“I wanna fly!”

Starbuck beamed. “Hell yeah.”

“Hey now. I ain't done yet.” Maddy chided. “So how 'bout you, Ginger?” Ruby narrowed her eyes, Maddy not understanding just how lucky she was. Not all that long ago such a stereotypical reference to Rube's hair color was enough to find oneself flat on their back getting introduced to the firebrand's foot. Fortuitously Ruby had simmered down over the years.

“Excuse you. It's Ruby.”

“My bad.” Throwing up her hands.

“Used to live with mah daddy and down the road from us was a man with horses. I learned to ride by the time ah was AJ's age. Haven't ridden since before ah came here.”

“Interesting. As luck would have it we have a perfectly good horse right over yonder.” Maddy said as a smile spread over her face.

Ruby became giddy like the little school girl she never was. Then Starbuck remarked. “And just the person to put to use. Josiah! Ven aquí, por favor!”

Josiah had taken off Lady G's saddle was giving the horse a brush down when he heard his name called. Looking up and figuring he had fucked up again he dropped the brush, shoved both hands into the pouch of his hoodie and sauntered over.

“Yo, watcha need?”

“Would you take Ruby here and let her take Lady G for a ride around the grounds, please?”

“Her saddle's off.”

“That's fine. Rest assured that Ruby knows how to ride bareback.” Starbuck paused for a bit before making AJ's day. “Ever been on a horse, AJ?”

The smile that came to the boy's face was enough to melt event he most cruel and callous of hearts. Well...maybe not Abel's or Lilly's.

“Can I?! Clem said she'd show me some day!”

“Certainly. Inconceivable that she'd let you to miss an opportunity like this.”

The foursome walked to the partially demolished lamp post to which Lady G was tied to. As Josiah held the reigns Starbuck hoisted Ruby up onto the horse's back – and nearly dropped her. Watching him struggle was half amusing half comical for all who watched until Starbuck caved in to the inevitable and asked for Josiah's assistance. Once she was situated Starbuck raised AJ and sat him in front of Ruby, the smile on his face still radiant.

“Everybody set?” He said at last.

“Yeah! Let's ride!” They chuckled at the boy's enthusiasm and energy.

Starbuck looked up making eye contact with AJ. “We cool, AJ?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

A smirk. “I'll take it.” He held out his hand, palm up. “Skin it.” Our pint-sized powerhouse looked puzzled until all was explained. “Hold out your hand, palm facing down, like this.” Starbuck demonstrated. “Now keep your hand like that and slide it over mine.” AJ slid his downward facing palm over the other's upward facing palm. “Now switch.” Now AJ's faced upward as Starbuck slid his over top. Those mirth-lines returned as a broad smile appeared.

“My man. That's an old school version of a high-five or a fist bump. Enjoy yourselves, you two. Carry on, Josiah.”

Starbuck stood sentinel as the trio and the horse left. He reveled at the memory of AJ's bright and jubilant face and hoped never to forget the expression so long as he lived. It made one feel all warm and squishy and shit making someone so happy. Not only that it was also a very politically savvy thing to do. Such a simple act of goodwill would go a long way to ease relations between the two factions.

“That was a really cool thing you did back there.” Omar mentioned as Starbuck sat down.

“Thanks, Chef. Mellowing in my old age, I suppose.” The smile dimmed slightly as he saw the outline of Violet standing by herself, isolated from the rest.

“Just wish everyone could see it.” He added and sighed.

“This isn't the first time she's been like this. She'll come back around eventually. It's been really rough on Vi, especially since Tenn's death.”

“Yeah, what I don't get is why she's all quiet and shit, even to AJ.” Willy said in hushed tones.  
  
_Maybe because he's a killer? _

“Well-” The chef began before Willy cut him off.

“Fuck it. Who's turn is it?”

“Mine.” Aasim began shuffling and was about to deal when Willy called out.

“Hold up! Here come Clem and Louis.”

All turned and expected to see the couple emerge from the entrance but saw nothing. At first they suspected Willy was seeing shit until Louis' unmistakable silhouette emerged behind one of the ivy-draped windows. Lou opened the door and held it open as the others heard the telltale _clop clop clop_ of Clem's crutches impacting the linoleum. Entering the fresh air she smiled at the adorable act of chivalry which promptly vanished once her eyes fell upon the table and noted the absence of both AJ and Ruby. Her maternal instincts went into overdrive and picked up the pace but waited until she got closer before asking. 

“Where's AJ? Ruby?” She demanded, a fierce edge to her voice.

Starbuck frowned at the look of distrust on that face.

_Cripe! How many times must I go through this?_

He responded first in his best approximation of Rodney Dangerfield before resuming his regular voice. “I tell ya. I get no respect, no respect at all. They're both fine. Ruby expressed the wish for horseback riding and we happily obliged.”

“Shoulda seen the little one's face when he got invited. Sweetest thing I've seen in ages.” Maddy interjected.

Out of the corner of her eye Clementine could just make out the form of Lady G and her two passengers as well as the horse's handler, strolling about the courtyard without a care or worry in the world. Clem's features softened at the peaceful solitude they were doubtless enjoying as she resumed her seat at the table. 

“That's – that was really sweet of you. Thank you.”   
  
“Aw, shucks. You're gonna make me blush.”

Louis placed another log on the fire before something in the distance snagged his attention. He squinted, in order to take full advantage of his eagle-eye vision.

_That guy in the tower is gone. _He signed.

Without so much as a word Starbuck bolted out of his seat and flew off towards Ho-Jon's position, his pace slackening until he came to an eventual stop. Lou saw Starbuck place his hands on his hips, shake his head, turn and jog back.

“Fast asleep.”

“Just gonna let your watch dog sleep like that?” Clem japed, raising an eyebrow.

Starbuck waved a hand before his face. “Ho's earned it. First real sleep he's had in days after all that time up in the trees. Don't _you_ give me any flak.” He looked down at the imaginary watch on his wrist. “You're back sooner than expected.”

A shrug. “Got plenty of sleep.” Running a hand through her unruly mess of hair. “I got questions to ask.”

“Feeling's mutual.” Zachariah noted. “Starbuck gives us a fucking biography and your clan knows squat about you.”

“A _bi_ography is the written account of another person's life. An _auto_biography is one written by that person.” Starbuck corrected.

“Whatever.” 

Clem let the observation hang in the air. Louis could sense Clem didn't like being put on the spot like this so he ran some interference.

_Deal us in, Aasim._

And deal them in he did, dealing Zachariah the ten of Clubs. “I gotta ask: how d'ya do it? Get on the Fitz, that is?”

“I can answer that.” Clem offered.

Zachariah clutched his heart, feigning a heart attack. “_Finally_, some answers.”

As we're already familiar with this aspect of the story let's skip to the end. The three Delta members naturally impressed at the brunette's audacity and tactical mastery.

“You used a fuckin' Whisperer and the herd to get on board.” Maddy let out a low whistle. “Lilly tangoed with the wrong bitch.” 

Clem gave a smirk but remained impassive as she handed back her lousy five of Spades. Maddy shuffled the deck and awarded herself the Jack of Hearts.

“Y'all mentioned birthdays earlier. How the hell you even know what day it is? Got a day planner stashed away somewhere?”

“October the twenty eighth*.” Aasim answered without skipping a beat. “I've kept track of all our comings and goings here at the school for some time.”

“Oh, like a diary?” Aasim's face failed to hide hie displeasure at having his efforts to chronicle the daily happenings of the school referred to as a 'diary'. The only thing in all the school which helped sustain his sanity to be compared to as some imaginary friend used by a prepubescent girl as a tangible outlet to express their innermost thoughts. The nerve of some people. Clem chuckled recalling a similar reaction having made the same mistake when they first met.

“Not quite. I prefer to think of it as as a history book chronicling what happens here. 'Those who do not learn from the past –.”

“Are doomed to repeat it.” Starbuck finished. “George Sanatyama. Nineteenth century philosopher – they're smart dead guys with too much time on their hands. Me next!” Taking up the deck.

“You guys got any cool scars?” Willy asked with just a little too much enthusiasm for such a bizarro query upon getting the nine of Heart – the lowest winning card thus far.

“Hah! You all have seen my back.”

“Had my tonsils taken out when I was six.” Snoresville.

Maddy stood, unzipped her vest and lifted up her shirt revealing a cesarean section scar running vertically from belly button down beyond her waist line. “Couldn't give birth to my son normally. Nine pounds fourteen ounces when he was born.”

“Please, spare the details. I have a weak constitution.” Zachariah pleaded. “Linc took a load of buckshot to the shoulder. Got him discharged from the Navy.” 

“That was the Petty Officer's daughter if I'm not mistaken.”

“I dunno. Knowing that 'ol horndog, probably was.”

“I know what it's like to be shot.” Clem remarked, rubbing the wounded shoulder. A going away gift from that Russian puke Arvo. Luckily the wound was a through and through, otherwise Clem's would have been left with a crippled arm – a veritable death sentence in today's world. It was miraculous that Arvo had survived that long hobbling around on that gimp leg of his.

Fuck that guy. Mike and Bonnie too . 

Removing her S.S.M.C. jacket and placing it on the table she rolled up her left sleeve revealing a jagged, semi-circular scar.

“Dog bite.”

“Damn. Man's best friend, huh?”

“Yeah. Not that one.”

“Nice needlework. Looks like someone flunked Home Ec.” Maddy noted.

“That someone was me. I was eleven then.”

“You did _that_? Yourself?” 

“Jeezus, kid. Takes a serious pair to do that.” Zachariah remarked.

“No choice. The people who found me thought it was a walker bite and locked me in a shed to see if I turned. Managed to sneak out and got a needle and some fishing line and stitched myself up. Then a walker got in just after I finished. Nearly got bit for real before I killed it.”

Starbuck couldn't help but look amused and shake his head in wonderment at the pint-sized dynamo seated across from him. “You truly are one tough bird.”

“I suppose. Gotta be for AJ's sake in this day and age.”

“Is that a brand?”

Clem looked down and realized that by lifting up her shirtsleeve she had inadvertently exposed part of the brand from her days rolling with the New Frontier.

“Ruby mentioned seeing that awhile back. She washed your clothes after your surgery.” Aasim said.

Clem was not in the least enthused but dutifully rolled up her sleeve, displaying the pink-colored keloid scar adorning her left forearm for all to see. The New Frontier's brand, which all members obligated to wear, was their sign – a mark denoting their vow of solidarity and unity. The brand itself resembled a capital letter 'Z' with the numeral six placed back to back, the tail of the 'Z' forming a near complete circle around both.

Her feelings regarding the New Frontier were – mixed to say the least. For a time they were family to both her and AJ but as is so often times the case family come and go. As stated earlier any decisions were always made for the greater good of the group, never for the individual. Well, we know our darling Clementine would never do anything just for herself but would bend over backwards for AJ. And that's how she got banished, stealing medicine for AJ when sick and after their refusal to help. Their junk head 'doctor' even said it was a lost cause. Not like this was the first time Clementine happened across someone claiming to be a 'doctor'. A doctor who most likely found their PhD. inside of cracker jacks box. It would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways inconceivable that anyone would just allow a child to die and not so much as lift a finger to help. Those people, her 'family' thought she'd stand idly by as AJ's condition deteriorated and do _nothing_! Fuck! _That_!

She got caught. But so what?

Caught red-handed injecting AJ with the last of the Frontier's supply of vancomycin, a powerful antibiotic. For this betrayal she was kicked out, ostracized. So be it. She held no regrets for her actions. It just had to be done, even at the risk of being caught – better than doing jack like the rest. She wasn't cruel and heartless like these assholes. Besides, not like they needed them anyways. They had each other and that's all they needed. 

Then they took away her AJ. They ripped out her heart.

As hate-filled as it left her and as difficult life was without him after having moved Heaven and Earth they were finally reunited at the McCarroll Ranch. During their time apart he had, in fact, fully recovered. Having grown up healthy and strong Clem reconciled herself to the fact that the separation, regardless of how mentally taxing it had been, it was for the best. It may well have saved their lives. How can anyone hope to raise a child in such a world? Let us not forget that Clem was still herself, a child. So how can a kid be expected to raise another while leading an nomadic existence? Constantly on the move, in danger, seeking food, seeking shelter. Constantly, constantly, constantly. Even after the reunion they continued life as nomads.

“That's – uh. From some people I used to roll with.” She found herself struck with a sudden feeling of dread at the thought that the Delta may have had run-ins with Richmond, or worse, had business dealings with them. She hadn't been around when AJ had asked about the ranch so such fears were unfounded. Relief came seeing no discernible change occur in the demeanor of the Delta members so she took that as a good omen and let out a breath she didn't realize she held.

“Fair enough.”

Starbuck handed over the deck to Zachariah who froze just before he dealt as some thought struck him. It was fortunate they were playing at night because the look he leveled at Clem made the color drain from her face.

“_Waitaminute waitaminute waitaminute_.” 

The frown deepened as he considered that which only he knew. 

“Something's not right here.”

The eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed, causing deep wrinkles to form.

Clem's heart stopped.

_He knows!_

Extending a finger he began counting off each player from Team Ericson's, stopping once he came to Le Grand Chef.

“You haven't dealt, have you?” 

Clem felt she could have passed out right there and then.

“Hmm. Guess not. Got caught up in everyone's answers and kinda forgot.”

“Hey! That means I got skipped too!” Willy protested**.

“Ah, piss up a rope!”

“How in the actual hell did we fuck this up?”

“Aw quit yer belly achin', you two.” Maddy snapped. “For Chrissake. Just let 'im deal. Holy fuck, you two act like ya got sand in yer manginas.” None of the kids had never heard the word and those who had said nothing more as Omar took his belated turn.

“You said you used a Whisperer to get aboard. How did we befriend said Whisperer?” Starbuck asked having obtained the Jack of Clubs.

Again there's no need to retell that which we already know so let us proceed to Clementine's first time as dealer. 

The Indian's face fell the moment he held the King of Clubs, the winning card. It was a rare occasion to see Aasim so pensive, some inner turbulence causing him to shift nervously in place. Something was going on in the young adult's mind but was reluctant to spill the beans. As they locked eyes Clem knew this wouldn't bode well.

And damned if she wasn't right.

“Clem – what...uh – What I mean...fucking shit.” The unease in his voice was palpable.

“Out with it, Aasim.” Her words came out testier than she intended but by this point his hesitancy grated her nerves. And nap time was cut short as well.

“What...god, you're all gonna hate me for this.” He mumbled. Taking a deep breath he blurted it out. “What exactly happened to AJ's parents?”

Team Delta went bug-eyed and were rendered speechless at the very audacity of the question. Even Starbuck had to pick his jaw up from off the ground. Louis slammed a fist on the tabletop. If looks could then both Omar and Willy would get twenty-five to life, each. If you didn't know any better you'd think Clem's brain had short circuited as she sat there unblinking, her mouth slightly agape.

_What. The. FUCK is wrong with you?!_

“You're right: we are gonna hate you. Yer lucky Ruby ain't here or she'd rip you a new asshole.”

“How can you ask something like that? What is your major fucking malfunction! She saves our asses and you fucking ask her _that_?!” Omar's voice rose in anger and intensity as he spoke. Omar's exasperation was enough to bring Clem out of her daze. One question was all it took to turn this ostensibly entertaining distraction straight onto its head. 

Starbuck was just glad it wasn't his fault.

Clementine awoke from her stupor and responded, trying to sooth her friend's pretty pink asses. “It's okay, Omar.”

Omar was having none of it. “Bull_shit_ it is! That's fucking uncalled for and we all know it!” 

“No, Starbuck's right.” Starbuck felt partially flattered to hear himself referred to by name. “You guys have followed me to hell and back. It's not fair how you all have opened yourselves to me and AJ and I've been so secretive.” Clem stopped and looked down where two feet once were, trying to think what next to say. Just then a hand fell on her shoulder. She turned and saw the concerned face of Louis. Smiling, she placed hers on top and interlocked their fingers.

“They're dead. AJ's parents.” She started to say, closing her eyes as did. “I saw them both die.”

And so she spilled her guts, so to speak. Absolutely spilled them. Nothing was held back. Totally unfiltered. 

She told of meeting the Cabin group which included Alvin Sr. and a very pregnant Rebecca. Having endured repeated beatings at the hands of Carver Alvin knew he had not much time left on this Earth so as Clem activated the PA system from Carver's office, Alvin covered the door. As she made good her escape Alvin exchanged fire with the first man to enter and fell mortally wounded. Sacrificing his life so Clem could save his budding family. At first there had been suspicions as to Alvin's paternity claims but after that day she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that AJ was one hundred percent Alvin's.

Having made good their escape from Howe's Hardware they beat feet through the backwoods of Tennessee until they found the others at a Civil War battlefield where Rebecca's water ultimately broke. Scrounging around they managed to procure some water and clothes for Rebecca and for the up and coming birth. Seeking a place of relative security they found an observation deck festooned with info about the Civil War and the subsequent battle of Parker's Run. What was of more importance than the area's historical significance was the sudden appearance of walkers popping out of nowhere, forcing them to flee to the observation deck. As Kenny did what he could to help Rebecca the others held off the horde. Just when all seemed lost our intrepid Clem was able to drop the deck, effectively sealing them off from the walkers But dread filled them when they peered in and saw Kenny holding the motionless newborn in his hands.

Then came a cough.

Then a hearty, healthy sounding wail of a newborn. A new life had entered into this world of death.

From his perspective, Alvin Jr.'s first week on Earth were unremarkable apart from having gone from being comfy and warm; floating weightlessly, blissfully suspended in utero around the clock. Now something engulfed his body, his arms and legs held fast. Not only that but _damn_ was it now chilly out. What gives? He had the sensation – not that he even knew what the word meant – that he was moving horizontally. 

Oh well, might as well sleep. When in Rome, as the say.

Not that AJ would be expected to remember coming to a stop then being jarred as whatever held him plopped down onto something. The next cognizant thought he had was 'What was that?!' as the crack of a pistol went off, all hell breaking lose. 

The first gunshot was the one which ended the life of his mother, shot by Clementine when it was discovered that Rebecca had turned while the rest were distracted – having most likely died from blood loss – while holding AJ in her arms.

The story telling ended there. Clem could stand the sting of those memories no more. The poor girl was an absolute mess. As the story began she had managed to hold it together – for about a New York minute. By the telling of Alvin's death the tears began to well and her voice began to crack. By its conclusion Clem's sobbing and body quakes were more intense than that day by the greenhouse after the fight with Vi.

All were silent. Who could blame them? The only sound heard was the crying and sniffling belonging to their once mighty Warrior Queen. Poor Aasim was despondent and felt like a microbe. Even with all eyes on Clem he could feel the heat from everyone's anger on his face. Something reached out and touched his hand, causing him to start. Gazing down he found a woman's hand atop his. At the other end of the arm he found Maddy, tears burnishing her face, gave him a reassuring smile and gave his hand a squeeze. While everyone was silent Starbuck perceived that it was impossible for Ruby and AJ not to hear the crying. He stood and to his horror spied Lady G and Josiah scarcely one hundred feet away.

_Dear god no! Not yet! Not this way!_

Though darkness had set in he could well imagine the look of concern and confusion on both faces and the bevy of questions buzzing around in each head. Giving a sharp whistle he hoofed it a few rods away and held up a fist followed by a finger.

_ Stop. Wait one._

Hustling back he pointed a finger and hissed. “Not a syllable about this to anyone! Understood?” All nodded in silent agreement except Clem and Louis who clung onto each other. With all sworn to secrecy Starbuck again whistled and waved Josiah on. As most watched the horse's approach a familiar voice caused everyone's head to turn fast enough to break the sound barrier.

“Did you know the twins?” 

Behold the AWOL blonde of Ericson's School! There she stood in all her grandeur, one hand grasping the elbow of the opposite limb, her eyes begging Starbuck for an answer. Aasim should record this event into his histories of the school, this being the first time those emeralds showed anything but hatred and malevolence towards him since that first day.

Seems difficult to differentiate between which was more miraculous: Vi sudden reappearance like the Prodigal Son or the realization that no one had thought to ask the full details about Soph. They knew what had befallen Minerva but apart from Minerva having murdered her twin they knew nothing about what had happened between the day of their kidnapping and Sophie's death. Having become preoccupied enjoying the game – thereby forgetting to ask about the twins – those who grew up with the twins felt they had somehow forsaken the memory of not only the slain twin but that of Tennessee as well. But if they thought Starbuck would allow this breakage of house rules they were mistaken. Instead of responding back they saw Violet's question had kicked up a veritable hornet's nest.

And hoo-_wee_ did he look pissed. 

He stood in place, balling up his fists. Had it been day time a discernible tic would have been seen in the corner of one eye. The only sound heard was the hasty, audible inhaling and exhaling of breath as air was forced out through his nose.

“Not a word, you two!” Up he plucked the deck of cards and began aggressively shuffling the cards clearly in a state of intense agitation, still breathing like an enraged bull. If he didn't have sand in his mangina earlier he most certainly did now. “If – you wish to ask – a question. Must – play the game.”

Slamming down the cards on the table he barked. “_FUCK_ it! Deal me out! I'm going for a walk.” Whirling around he stormed off and continued walking. When Josiah was within throwing distance he knew better than to say anything. Shit, his ears were just beginning to recover from earlier. Whatever had gone down during his absence – as long as it wasn't his fault – so much the better. By the time Lady G and her passengers were within a few rods of the table Ruby spied the source of all that ruckus. Bringing the horse to a halt she dismounted, albeit ungracefully, and reached up to retrieve AJ. Her hands barely touched him before he jumped the rest of the way running off as soon as both feet made contact with terra firma and flew towards a distraught Clem, concern etched all over his face.

“Clem! Clem? What's the matter?! What happened?! Why are you crying?! What's going on?! Why won't you guys answer me?!” AJ implored and implored but no one had the heart to answer the despondent child. How could they after all they had just seen and heard? After the oath they swore to uphold? How can one legitimately call them-self human and yet tell AJ that young the truth as to how his parents really, truly died?

Since his 'friends' didn't feel inclined to answer AJ's rage switch was flipped to the 'ON' position and directed now his questions, as well as his ire, to the Delta. “What the _FUCK_ did you do?! Where is he?! Where _IS HE_?! If he hurt Clem I'll _KILL_ 'im! Just like I killed Lilly!”

“AJ! _STOP_!” Clem's shrieking and quavering voice split the air, cutting through AJ's rage like a hot knife through butter (pardon the cliché). Just hearing her voice was enough to have a calming effect on him. Whenever she spoke like this it was as if nothing else existed nor mattered, only his Clem. His rant over, the anger dissipated, all that was wanted was to embrace one another and hold one for dear life, which they did as AJ buried his head in Clem's chest. Those quakes, those ones which only unrelenting sobbing bring were still there but had lessened. By this point Clem was just emotionally spent. This day had been just too draining in her soul and her psyche. 

Without warning, another, less familiar pair of arms found their way around her and AJ. Her first thought was that the arms belonged to Louis but that distinctive smell of leather and body odor was absent. Opening her eyes all she saw was that mess of blonde hair. 

Violet's.

Hit the Deck! Incoming Ruby!

She swooped in like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Grabbing Maddy by the shoulder she damned near yanked the Delta member right out of her seat, screaming at the top of her lungs. “Jus' what the fuck ya do to Clementine, bitch?! I outta bash yer skulls in like a fuckin' melon!”

“Ruby, stop!” Aasim hollered.

“Cool it, Rube!” Omar begged.

“Yeah it's all good.” Willy added. Willy had remained silent for some time. Not like his words would soothe her any.

The sound of a round being chambered captured Zachariah's attention. “WHOA! WHOA! WHOA! Linc, stand down! Stand down! Josiah, you too!” He held out his arms as if warding off some evil spirit or invisible danger. “Everybody cool it!”

“Fucking bitch.” Maddy fumed, sitting upright.

“Knock it off, Maddy!” Slowly he scanned each face before continuing. “Let's all take a chill pill. Clem got – a little emotional is all.

“How?” AJ asked.

“Sorry, AJ. Boss's orders.” He apologized.

“Yo, where the fuck he go anyways? For a walk?” Josiah queried, still glad he wasn't at fault. 

Aasim interjected on Zachariah's behalf. “Doesn't matter. Look, he's right. We all need to relax. All of us.” Casting a glance at those of Ericson's. “Maybe it would be best to call it a night.”

"Au contraire Mon Fraire.” If some weird phrase was heard Starbuck was not far and sure as shit there he stood.

“Just woke Ho-Jon up. Sleep well, Linc?”

“Oh yes, suh. Slept like de dead.”

“Nice choice of words.” Willy causally remarked.

“Look, how 'bout a new game? Something different?”

“Ooohhh! How about Truth or Dare?!” Zachariah said with mock enthusiasm.

“Capital idea!” Maddy replied.

“Fuck me...” He groaned.

“Aw. C'mon, Buttercup. What's the worst that can happen?” 

Famous last words...

The others reluctantly agreed for whatever reason. Perhaps boredom, perhaps because none of them wanted to go to bed yet. Who knows. 

Ruby and Starbuck resumed their old seats, Josiah sat to one corner next to Willy and Vi took the seat between Louis and Ruby. Ho-Jon was taking his sweet-assed time coming back and Linc found Truth or Dare beneath his dignity and went to go chat it up with the Asian.

Teams remained the same, the exceptions being Josiah pairing up with Zachariah, Vi with Louis and AJ with Clem. The rules altered slightly: whomsoever obtained the high card won but whomever got the lowest card must either answer the question or perform the requested dare as ordained by the winner. Aasim unconsciously rubbed his cheek at the distant memory of the last time he played – and lost. He had been dared to ask Ruby for a kiss, a request for which he was awarded the Golden Slap for his efforts, much to the merriment of his companions. Some time would pass but eventually he got that kiss when a brief romance blossomed between the pair. Little doubt his time spent incarcerated by the Delta helped.

Josiah was given the honor of dealing and handed the King of Clubs to the winner and the three of Diamonds to the winner and the loser, respectively.

Starbuck and Vi.

Ah, _shit_.

“Oh, _definitely_ a dare.” That ain't good. “Kiss me. Right here. Just on the cheek.”

Should we be surprised? As can well be imagined protests and questions abounded most pertaining to his level of maturity but he remained adamant, claiming that only the kiss from a beautiful women could release him from an evil spell cast which transformed him from a prince into a frog. Upon receiving said kiss the spell would be broken and he would be transformed, once more, into a prince.

“Prince? More like a one hundred and forty pound gooch with a Brillo beard.” Maddy japed.

“Fine. Whatever.” Nobody saw that coming, not least Starbuck. You see the Delta's leader wasn't the only one who knew how to strategize. To Violet's way of thinking the longer they could get these assholes to play someone with a modicum of common sense would ask about Minerva and Sophie. If kissing this supreme asshole was the price that had to be paid, so be it. Rolling her eyes, she stood and made her way over, like the condemned on the way to the gallows. The taste of bile rose up in her throat upon finding the expectant cheek awaiting its prize.

The twins were the first people Vi befriended upon arriving at the school – what seemed like lifetime ago, followed shortly thereafter by Louis which came as no surprise. Lou had always proclaimed himself the school's social butterfly – or, more accurately, the bane of every teacher's existence and the reason for many teacher's addition to Pepto Bismol. The others took longer to warm up to for one reason or another. Some she only befriended after the world went to shit and as the pool of potential friends got smaller and smaller until you really couldn't afford not to grow close with others. These friendships were ones born out of convenience as well as necessity. Think of it as moving to a new neighborhood and finding some kids your age. You may not care for them but beggars can't be choosers, desperate times call for desperate measures.

As time went the student's rank and file dwindled, Violet and Minerva discovered that more than a close friendship was developing between them. Something special, something unique. Although Soph never admitted as such Vi always felt Soph wasn't enthused at the idea of her twin and her bestie being an item. Granted, Vi never believed her to be a homophobe, but imagined she was more concerned about what would occur if something were to came between the most important women in her life. As fate would have it the drama of an eventual breakup never came to fruition once the twins were kidnapped. Doesn't really matter anyways. Ancient history it is. Minerva's dead. Soph's dead.

Tenn's dead.

Vi just hoped and prayed that by entertaining this fucking creep's dare it could potentially bring her one step closer to some answers as to what happened with the twins after they were kidnapped by Lilly's people – pardon – his people. Resigning herself to fate, fingers crossed and closing her eyes she thought.

_This is for you, Soph._

She bent down and puckered up.

Unsurprisingly the frog didn't revert back into a prince after its kiss, instead the frog pulled the ultimate dick move. At the last conceivable second, it flicked its head to one side whereby they exchanged the briefest of kisses – right on the lips.

_This magic moment_   
_So different and so new_

The lyrics to the 1969 hit which played inside Starbuck's head was rudely interrupted as howls of outrage came from all directions. The childish antic garnered him no fans amongst the school nor his people – except Linc who witnessed the boss smooch that scrawny blonde and who's distinctive laugh was audible even over the sounds of the riot act being read in surround sound. At least Linc got a kick out of the stunt even all the while disappointed that no tongue was involved.

Ew...

The practical jokester once again found himself on the receiving end of yet another outpouring of rage and verbal abuse for a second time that day, only this time from his own people chimed in and those of the school. If you thought you heard some colorful language and descriptors were used earlier in the day as Starbuck searched Clem for weapons, try again. Having become immune to the barrage of threats and invectives from Clem's cadre, having heard much the same old song and dance as earlier, but now with the inclusion of the Delta members and their expressions of displeasure at the childish act the full gravity of his juvenile escapade sank in. 

Even less disconcerting, Violet's exasperation took the form of unleashing a guttural roar and shoving him with all her might before turning tail and rushing off into the bowels of the dorms and out of sight.

_Oh Goody, _now _I've gone and done it. _

“Alright, alright!” He pleaded. “Stay put. I'll get her. Violet, wait!” Rising, he beat feet after the irate blonde at a jog, following the foot falls down the hallway heading towards the Girl's dorms, noticing he had never seen this part of the school before. Catching a glimpse of her as she turned the corner at a brisk walk towards Room 417 he picked up his pace.

“VIOLET! Please, I – ”

Vi whirled around, tears streaming down her face, shrieking. “GET THE _FUCK_ AWAY FROM ME!!!”

_Starbuck, you perv. What. Have. You. Done?_

The sight of those tears cut to the core. How could he be so stupid? How can one so smart still be so dumb? Had he totally lost base with what it meant to hold a position of leadership all the while maintaining the level necessary level of maturity and decorum the office requires?

“Mmm. Much anger in you, there is.” Yoda replied.

Face palm.

“Look, sorry. It was a cheap shot but – ”

The sentence hung in the air unfinished. What now stood opposite him wiped that smirk away like a cheap piece of china off a counter, knocked over by a cat. The tears seen earlier meant nothing now that Violet stood there, cleaver held out before her and leveled a menacing glare through those red, bloodshot eyes right at him.

“Another step and I'll slice your fucking dick off!” She warned.

They squared off. Neither willing to yield, neither blinking. And so they squared off. Neither willing to yield, neither blinking. You almost expected to see a tumbleweed bisecting the space between the two combatants as they glared at one another, the classic whistling and musical notes before the big showdown scene in a spaghetti western playing in the background. The lights were on and somebody was home yet Starbuck said not a word. That is until he drew his knife and rotated it one hundred and eighty degrees into a reverse knife grip.

“So be it then.” He said tossing the knife away. Then pulling out his SIG – ejected the mag and racked the slide, catching the round in mid-flight which he tucked into a pocket, and tossed the gun in one direction, the mag to the other.

“My oh my, you must really hate my guts.”

“You have no idea.”

“Betcha I do.” He stated matter of factly. “You've despised me since I got here. You let your anger towards the Delta drive a wedge between those you care for most, those you love.”

“FUCK! YOU!”

He smiled. “The truth will set your teeth free, honey. Listen, I'll make you an offer you can't refuse. Kill me. Kill me and you can tell my people to pack up their shit and vamos.

“Smartest thing to come out of your mouth besides Einsteen's dick. I accept.”

Starbuck blinked. “Cute. That's Ein_stein_ not -_steen_.” Slowly he shook his head and sighed then adopted a defensive stance: left leg placed forward, raised both fists, right elbow tucked in protecting his liver. Extending a hand he gestured for his opponent to 'come on'.

Vi swore not only to avenge her honor but also swore to rid the world of this vermin of a man or die in the attempt. Letting out a war cry, cleaver held above her head, she charged full tilt after the challenger. Starbuck pivoted on the balls of his feet and easily swung out of the way like a door, the blade cleaving the air previously occupied by his head not a fraction of as second before.

“Try again. But with more feeling this time.”

Another charge, another swing and a miss – only this time the missed swing caused knocked her off balance and just recovered in time before she slammed into the opposing wall. Starbuck was running low on patience finding his rival leaving a lot to be desired and verbalized it as such.

“Hurry before the others hear and you embarrass yourself before a crowd.” He taunted. 

Oh that voice! Those stupid wise cracks. The jokes. _Christ_ how they grated on her nerves! A thousand times – a _million_ times worse than anything Lou was ever capable of back when he could speak speak. She never said it aloud to him but she missed the sound of Lou's voice. Even the sound of his singing would be welcome. His voice was always sounded so relaxed, so unabashedly confident, so care free, so nonchalant. This douche however, Vi would do anything to silence. It was Starbuck's people who rendered Lou silent and only AJ's boredom and subsequent discovery which granted Lou the means to communicate once again, to once again have a 'voice'. Once Vi was finished Starbuck would have no need to communicate. He'd be stone dead.

By now our underdog's face was crimson and her heartbeat pounded in her ears. The trusty meat cleaver stolen all those years ago after the adults fled had rarely left her side since and was about to find it's new home in this asshole's dome. As the blade descended Starbuck swept his left arm inside of Vi's, deflecting the arm outwards while simultaneously sticking out a foot, causing her to fall to one knee as he retreated, opening up the space between them.

“COME ON!” He roared, before striking his chest. “You want my blood! Take my blood!” 

The fourth onslaught went about as well as the others only this time Starbuck clamped onto both wrists as Violet tugged with all her might trying to regain the lost leverage, cursing all the while. Without warning Vi felt a foot reach out and sweep out both of hers. Had this been a true nemesis the vanquished foe's wrist would've been broken and their larynx trodden under foot. But this wasn't the case here. Instead the vise-like grip was held until Vi's butt was only a few feet off the ground before he let go, allowing her to ignominiously plop onto the floor like someone who had a chair pulled out from underneath.

“Pa_thet_ic!” He exclaimed.

During the descent to the floor her grip had loosened and the cleaver had fallen by the wayside, leaving her totally defenseless and at his mercy. While still on her derriere she scooted backwards until her back slammed into the wall. Peering to either side she frantically searched for something to use as a weapon or find some avenue of escape – and came up empty, turning straight ahead just in time to watch in abject horror as Starbuck reached down and pick up the mislaid weapon.

Standing straight once more he gazed at the butcher's implement then cast a steely-eyed glance in the blond's direction and walked on towards her.

Never had she felt so alone or scared in all her eighteen years. Nothing came close to this level of fear. Fear which flowed from every pore. Standing up for AJ after he shot Marlon, that was nothing. Defending the school against Lilly, that was nothing. Sneaking onto the _Fitzgerald_, child's play. Walking amongst walkers – ok, _that_ was scary. Then again, what do you expect when covered from head to toe in cold, slimy, smelly walker guts? Had Lou been forced to dance among the dead he'd bitch about how bad walker gut stains are to wash out. Hell, even being held captive wasn't shit compared to this. Because during those times she wasn't alone. There were always others alongside her, people who helped motivate her, helped steel her resolve. A loner by nature but being alone was also her worst fear, whether by intention or by happenstance, she was now all by her lonesome. Now, she was the primary agent in her own rescue. Although a loner by nature being alone was also her worst fear, whether by intention or by happenstance, she was now all by her lonesome.

  
And to cap it all off – she was now disarmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *October the twenty-eighth was actually the date I first wrote the original outline for what questions to ask.  
**This was a genuine blooper on my part. The original outline was correct out I copied it down incorrectly in the notebook I used for my initial draft. I thought it was an interesting example of life imitating art so I included it.


	12. Sororicide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *joie de vivre = swah-duh-vee. A feeling of great happiness and enjoyment of life. There's your French word of the day.

There stood Starbuck towering over a petrified Violet, wielding her cleaver in his hand. The blonde just couldn't believe her life was about to come to such an inglorious end. What options were left? Scream in the hope that her knight in shining armor would hear her entreaties, dash in, vanquish, thereby pulling her ass out of the fire? Nuh-uh. Not a chance. The long hallways would deaden any cries for help. How about the 'ol tried and true well placed kick to the knee or in the pork and beans? Laughable at best. Not enough leverage, especially when you're sitting flat on your butt. A punch? Nada. Even worse leverage and less reach. Welly well, only one thing was left then.

Closing her eyes, she began to cry.

The voice of Don Corleone, the Godfather himself, split the still air and put an end to the pitiable whimpering.

“How did things ever get so far? I don't know. It's so unfortunate, so unnecessary.” Slowly – ever so slowly, Vi opened her eyes. There he stood, empty handed, the cleaver tucked into a pocket. His arms now crossed, that rage-filled voice from earlier was gone as had that steely-eyed glared, replaced now with a sympathetic demeanor.

“I'm just a poor soul who's misunderstood, Deary.” He began. “You missed the part were I told all the others we're not here to kill anyone. I wanted all my duckies lined up in a nice, neat little row before I made my move. As I told Darling Clementine my people need protection and security so they can be safe. They-”

“Just fucking kill me already, you fuck! I don't fucking _care_ anymore! You came here to take use just like you took Minnie and Soph!”

Starbuck stood on one leg and delivered a brutal kick to the wall right beside her head with the heel of his foot. He winced in pain then looked down to collect himself, as he had done many times before, staying silent for a solid minute before resuming.

“Don't test my patience further, Violet. I swear to _Christ_ you're three of the most irritating people I've ever met.” He then belched. “Look, we know Minerva's dead.”

“No shit! I fucking _watched_ her die!” Starbuck shook his head ruefully.

“Wrong.”

“The fuck you'd know!”

By body language alone you could see the internal struggle which raged within between keeping his cool or completely losing his shit. Finally, cooler heads prevailed. “Incorrect, she died long before that in actuality. How'd that song go? 'Never mind the darkness'?”

Somewhere, somehow Starbuck had uncovered the pause button to planet Earth and caused it to stop rotating on its axis. All survivors, walkers, animal life of all shapes and sizes, the clouds, even the tectonic plates eventually ground to a halt as well.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me. Listen.” He squatted down and looked directly into those emerald eyes. “I've been the bane of your existence since I arrived. This was, and still is, a diplomatic mission – one of peace. The whole Stanley thing was a ruse to get you all to the negotiating table. My childish antics caused you to turn against your friends leading to this.” He said, patting the meat cleaver. “I didn't mean to. Look-” he said with with a heavy sigh, “I'm sorry for the kiss. Wife always said I was a lousy kisser anyways. Don't mean shit to you but it must be said. So there it is.”

He extended his hand. “Wana know about them? Take my hand. With Lilly and Abel pushing up the daisies I'm the only one left.”

“Only one what?”

“Take my hand and find out.”

So therein lay the key. The key to unlocking the mystery which weighed heavily on the minds of all who knew the twins since their disappearance nearly two years before. Vi didn't give two shits about their visitor's favorite color, favorite ice cream or even if they ever found Bugs Bunny attractive when he put on a dress and played a girl bunny. All that mattered were answers. Answers which filled in the time gap between when they were taken to the day Soph died and thus ending with Minerva's demise. Perhaps by the simple act of taking that proffered hand the answers to the enigma which was the story behind the twins betrayal, the causation of many a sleepless nights may be solved courtesy of this asshat. On second thought, maybe it was a good thing the pothers didn't want to feed him to Abel after all like she wanted. Now he could provide the much needed closure and peace of mind she lacked and would allow this emotionally taxing chapter of her life to be brought to close.

Unbeknownst to Vi she was in the same position as Clem just hours earlier. And just like her friend Vi first looked at the hand, then up to Starbuck, then back to the hand before grasping it with less hesitation than her amiga did. Back on both feet and she rubbed away the last of tears with her shirtsleeves, sniffed clear her sinuses and blurted out. “How did you know the twins? Where they happy? How long before Soph –”

Starbuck interrupted this deluge of inquiry by pointing to the meat cleaver in his pocket and with an incredulous look responded by saying, “You tried to kill me!” Turning on his heels he ambled down the hallway towards the great outdoors, yearning for some fresh air. After twenty feet or so he called over one shoulder, “AANNNDD you _still_ won't give me your number!” as an afterthought.

Vi stood perplexed for an instant before performing her patented full-body eye roll then scooted to catch up.

Just when the inmates of Ericson's thought they'd seen it all Starbuck emerged from the bowels of the dorms with Vi right on his heels, not only on those heels but eagerly on them. You would believe she seemed to be willing him to get the lead out and move faster. Nobody had any inkling as to what transpired but whatever happened must have been a doozy to cause the blonde's demeanor to due a one-eighty, leaving her friends in the dark and scratching their heads. Neither spoke and ignored any queries asked them which didn't provide any clarity either.

As Vi resumed her seat Starbuck grasped the cleaver and embedded it into the table top. This creating quite the comical scene as everyone jumped, with the exception of Linc, who remained unflappable whatever the situation. He turned to both Maddy and Zachariah in turn and in a look which seemed to say “One of you done fucked up” looked at both. Rather than take a seat or ask how the weapon found its way back into the hands of its owner he chose to stand and looked at his people.

“Seems like only yesterday when I came here all these pricks here wanted me dead. He began, wagging a finger at each kid. “Now they don't want me to shut up.” Taking a seat and drumming his fingers on the table for several seconds before stopping and turning thoughtful and morose. “Yes. I did know them. The twins.” Those who knew the twins from the days of old sat up straighter in their seats at this confession. Although he admitted to having known the twins it failed to explain his sudden outburst from earlier. Clem and AJ had heard bits and pieces pertaining to the twins – Clem having a near death experience at the hands of one of them. Anyways... Carry on, Starbuck. They're hanging onto every word now.

“The others,” indicating his associates, “only know fragments – portions. I alone, know the whole story. Pray, keep questions to a minimum as I have no interest repeating myself.” Privately, he swore if some Buddhist temple or monastery was discovered he would take a vow of silence and never utter another syllable for the rest of his days, however long that may be.

Closing his eyes he began diatribe number who knows...

Lilly, Abel, Starbuck and a handful of others took part in a scouting party with the aim of searching for new lands of good and plenty. In order to cover more area they split into two sections. Abel headed up one squad and set off in one direction. Lilly's took off in the opposite direction. The latter was the one which Starbuck was part of. Sometime later a runner returned and recounted to the Queen Bee how Abel's squad encountered a pair of survivors some miles away and had both detained. The pair in question being none other that Marlon and Brody. Both teens knew they were outclassed weapon-wise and chose to capitulate. This was long before Marlon imposed that border which would eventually become their 'Safe Zone'.

“Always knew Marlon was a fucking coward. Clem woulda fought 'em.” Willy grumbled.

_Not if they threatened to hurt AJ._ Clem thought to herself.

“Cut 'em some slack, yo.” Josiah said. “What choice they got? You'd rather have yer brains blasted all over the fucking woods?”

“He's right. No sense arguing when you find yourself staring down both barrels of a twelve gauge, four rifles, three pistols and a partridge in a pear tree.” Zachariah added. Clem understood that all too well. Had it not been for James' timely intervention she and AJ would have shared a similar fate.

“Should've let 'em fucking take 'im.” Violet fumed. The others nodded. Clem hadn't thrown them to the wolves. Not when Lilly came to the school, not even after they voted to kick her out after AJ shot Marlon in the back of the head. They watched as Clementine offered herself up to the Delta in an ultimately futile gesture to prevent the shedding of both on either side. Something Marlon never would've had the _cojones_ to do. Unlike him, Clem understood what the words friends, loyalty, and leadership meant.

“No way, Jose.”

“That ain't gonna satisfy Lilly.” Maddy proclaimed. “You think she wouldn't just march 'em right back here and tell you to give yourselves up? Shit. She'd shoot 'em right before your eyes if you say no.” Considering what they'd seen of Lilly and Abel none doubted the remark's veracity.

Once Lilly arrived on station the twosome were asked the usual round of questions. Who are you? Where did you come from? Are there others? How many? How are they? Who is your daddy? What does he do? Et cetera. When you find yourself out manned and out gunned compliance is usually your best course of action unless you want your brains sprinkled all over the ground. Choosing self preservation they chose to cooperate and dutifully answered.

Surprising the others Marlon did, in fact, possess a backbone and had offered himself up in lieu of the others back at the school. Abel initially showed interest since Marlon looked better suited for the rigors of life as a soldier than did the brunette. Until now Starbuck had not known Brody's name, referring to her as 'that high-strung broad' instead. Lilly countered the overture by asking why not march both back to the school and take them all and save the trouble. Brody replied that it would only lead to unnecessary bloodshed. Instead, she proposed they lay a trap whereby the two would lead the unknowing recruits to some predetermined place far from the school where the kids could be taken without need for violence. Marlon put the icing on the cake suggesting that by claiming a walker attack to explain the loss of the students would explain the disappearance but cautioned that it would the efforts of both him and Brody to pull off the deception. Lilly relented as it minimized both chances of bumping into walkers en route and remove the need to walk any further than necessary. Additionally, they would be walking back to the _Fitz_ with eleven extra people in tow, all of whom under guard and in varying levels of subservience. We'll leave it up to your own devices to imagine how much of a headache Mitch would have been.

“Why didn't you do anything to stop 'em?” Willy asked.

A raised eyebrow. “Such as?” Raising both arms and looking around, seeing no suggestions were forth coming he continued. “You forget Lilly was still all powerful _and_ had her loyal lap dog by her side. As stated earlier I was but a lowly grunt. One of those you-say-jump-I-say-how-high type. We all were. They struck a deal and your former head of state shook hands with the Devil.

“And offered up Vi and Sophie. Just like that.” Aasim sadly noted.

“Like sacrificial lambs to the slaughter.” The narrator added, shaking his head in affirmation.

“That fuck Marlon.”

“You mean Brody.”

“WHAT?!” That was quite the shocker. Violet seemed to take this latest bombshell particularly well as she slammed a fist on the table. Then again, she did just find out she was to be traded like some baseball card by some of her peers. “That fucking _bitch_!” As the adrenaline faded and pain set in Vi massaged the injured hand before carrying on. “Can't say I'm surprised. Never did like each other.

“Explains why she was all buddy-buddy when we went fishing my first day here. She asked me to talk to you about the day the twins vanished.” Clem matter of factly chimed in.

“Buttering me up because she's the one who sold out Minnie and Soph.”

“But why Sophie?” Omar cut in. “Why not any of us like me, Aasim, or Louis?” The chef caught a glare from Lou. “Sorry, it's true. They're not exactly what you'd call soldier material. I mean, Minnie didn't even wanna kill walkers if she could outrun 'em.”

“Jealousy over a man – if Marlon's word is to be trusted.” Starbuck cautioned. “Someone here ever snub her advances? Give her the cold shoulder, as it were?”

An epiphany struck Willy who blurted out. “_Mitch_! Holy shit!” Starbuck faintly recalled spotting a grave inscribed with that name and was doubtless the student killed during the raid.

“Does kinda make sense. Them two sure seemed to spend loads of time together those last few weeks.” Ruby remarked.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Zachariah philosophically opined.

“Indeed. Anyways...”

Any hope of some insight as to the day the twins were taken was not forthcoming as Starbuck and two others were ordered to get the _Fitzgerald_ prepped for disembarkation to the Delta with their prizes. Starbuck thought he was experiencing some forbidden fantasy as twin redheads came aboard some days later. Vi related how on that day how she switched places with Minerva so she could spend the day in the greenhouse instead of hunting, thereby leaving Minerva to be taken instead. It was entirely possible that she may well have been the one eventually driven to kill Soph instead of her ex. But that's not how history panned out in the end, however.

Minerva was the one to kill Sophie, plain and simple. The news would've ripped out Tenn's heart with all the subtlety of a Great White eating a seal. Now, all three were dead. Good bye and good riddance to her former girlfriend.

Rest in pieces, bitch.

Once back at Woodsfield the twins were introduced, as well as indoctrinated, to their new home – the Delta. The first two weeks were a living hell for both twins having been forcibly taken away from ones kith and kin. It was only a matter of time before the whip introduced itself to the newest set of unsullied flesh, the whip saying 'Hello' in its own special little way. Anytime either twin failed to arrive for roll call on time, were perceived to be working either too slow or not hard enough or failed to end each sentence with the obligatory 'Yes sir' or 'Yes ma'am' there was the whip awaitin' the beck and call for its services. The girls began their tenure sharing the same tent as Starbuck recounted hearing the soft sounds of Minerva's singing as she tried to sooth the muffled crying of the younger sibling which explained how he came to know of Minerva's and Louis' musical collaboration.

_Minnie and I wrote that song. I'd play piano and she'd sing for everyone when we were down in the dumps._

Starbuck got the jist of what Lou was trying to convey without the aid of the Rosetta Stone of the Babel fish adding, “Never got very far before someone put a stop to it. One day she got caught and earned herself a dozen lashes from Michael. Never sang again after that.” Not until that night at the bridge, that it.

Events took an even darker turn one day when six of them took part in a wood chopping excursion including both twins and Starbuck, led by none other than Abel. During the course of their work another member managed to snap an ax handle in twain. At first glance this common event may appear trivial at most but seeing as how handles now only grew in remote parts of the world, right alongside the magical money tree. Reporting the loss or any damage done to any piece of equipment, regardless of size or import, was to be done so ASAP. The effects and consequences of any such mishaps or injuries were magnified tenfold in this age of survival and minimalist existence. Sprain an ankle, you can't walk. Break a handle and the tool is rendered useless. Another reason the loss of the ax mandated reporting was to ensure proper punishment was swiftly administered to prevent such happenings from recurring again. Sadly for the perpetrator of this infraction was the mortification knocking that this meant another round of lashes for a second time in less than a week. As Franklin Roosevelt once said, 'I think we consider too much the luck of the early bird and not enough of the bad luck of the early worm.' For those of us familiar we prefer to quote Animal Mother who said, 'Sucks to be you' and break out the world's smallest violin and proceed to play _My Heart Bleeds For You_.

Against his better judgment Starbuck decided to address the matter to Abel personally in the hope to mitigate the damage. But doing a favor such as this would provide him a precious chit, a favor to be called in later. Besides that we know Starbuck to be a master at the art of the deal. A consummate business man instilled with panache when interacting with people and a_ joie de vivre*_ – depending on whom you ask.

Off he went, skippin' and a-jumpin', broken implement in hand, in search of his dear 'ol buddy 'ol pal who was God knows where. No doubt Abel would blow a gasket once informed. Walking through the woods he ruminated on how best to navigate the troubled waters he voluntarily waded into.

Having traversed fifty yards or so and seeing neither hide nor hair of the boss his spidey-sense then detected the faint sounds of a struggle near by and headed that way to investigate when a male grunt was heard. Picking up the pace Starbuck cursed realizing he left his rifle behind. It was sorely needed now that it appeared as Abel had let his guard down and let a walker to sneak up on him, the dumb prick. While the loss of Abel cause him no loss of sleep, the ramifications of it being reported that he stood idly by as Abel was nibbled on was not worth considering. Heaving a disappointed sigh he ran off in the direction of the grunt and arrived just in time to observe Lilly's lieutenant dish out a mighty wallop that caused the prostrate representative of the Salvation Army of Darkness to go night night. So far as anyone was able to determine there existed no verifiable accounts in the historical record were known to exist of any man, let alone Abel, being capable of cleaning a walker's clock with a single punch. Not even Linc being capable of such.

Then Abel started taking off the walker's pants.

Let's pause and take as step back from the story for a moment here. We all have varying ideas and opinions about every subject under the sun and desperate times call for desperate measures but surely we can all at least agree that this was going a bit above and beyond? According to Webster's 1828 First Edition Dictionary, necrophilia is defined as the strange and uncontrollable urge to crack open a cold one. Sweet baby _Jesus_ this was enough to churn anyone's stomach. Abel had reached an all-time low of depravity. People have been known to go to extremes when finding themselves in survival situations such as eating grasshoppers for some precious calories, countless of stories existed of explorers who resorted to eating the leather from their shoes and belts, some became so desperate as to drinking their own piss for hydration. Don't do that by the way and not just because its gross and icky. Some tribesmen from the deserts of Africa have been known to crawl into the carcass of dead camels when forced to wait out a sandstorm. Another action not recommended. Point of the matter, just stay indoors. Turn on the boobtube, crack open a beer, kick up your feet and luxuriate in the A/C.

Then he saw the red hair.

No traffic cops clocked his speed nor was anyone available to measure how far Starbuck flew as he caught the sexual deviant in a flying tackle. Both rolled and rolled on the ground like two kids fighting at recess until both came to a stop and Starbuck introduced Abel's face to the left and right hands of Fellowship until Abel threw a handful of dirt into Starbuck's eyes, blinding him. Unable to see, the roles now reversed, Starbuck found himself on the receiving end of a barrage of punches. Kind of a preview of coming attractions if you think about it. Now flat on his back he flailed his arms wildly trying to stop the man who stopped throwing punches and now had both hands wrapped around his neck and began chocking the life out of him. Seeing stars and now only seconds away from slipping into unconsciousness in a textbook example of a shit-shot a thumb connected with Abel's normal-colored eye causing the grip on Starbuck's throat to be released.

The fracas having finally drawn to a close the others arrived only to find our intrepid Starbuck on his knees gasping for breath and Abel was left rolling on the ground, clutching his face and roaring in pain. Minerva rushed to her sister's side as one ran off to grab their left behind gear while the other attempted to shut Abel up before walkers showed. Walkers were sure to show up, popcorn in hand, expecting a real mother of a blowout only to be disappointed and would instead settle for today's dinner special. Once reassembled they unassed the area and hoofed it back to Woodsfield with all haste.

“That little scrap cost me a tooth.” Starbuck remarked and lifting up a lip and showed off the space once occupied by a canine and played his tongue through the resultant gap.

“Cool!”

“Enjoy all your teeth while you can, AJ. You don't wanna be like Linc here.”

“Huh Huh Huh! You mudda fukka, you.” Linc replied with good nature, knowing full well he could body slam all present.

Lilly was beyond incensed, the coloring of her face being somewhere on the red-color spectrum between sunburned Irishman and overcooked lobster. That would make for an interesting color of crayon since Crayola removed Indian Red from their line up of available colors. (Crayola is a registered trademark, don't sue the writer!)

Having a fucking bar brawl break out between her people was bad enough but that was just the tip of the iceberg. Now down two workers, an axe and not so much as a twig had been gathered. Oh, and lest we forget this all started because her top lieutenant was trying to get his rocks off. The following day both were stripped to the waist and tied to the pole were lashes were doled out where Abel and Starbuck received twenty and twenty five lashes, respectively. Chock that up as yet another example of Lilly's favoritism. Even as the initial lashes left him barely able to stand Starbuck, always one for a deal, offered to take twenty five more on the condition that neither twin work with Abel again.

Lilly relented and at some point he blacked out.

As Starbuck's back recovered the upper echelons of Woodsfield's leadership had grown impatient with what was deemed the twins' lack of progress. Each twin was now paired with another female member to act as a Jedi Knight responsible for the training of their assigned padawan. Sullene got stuck with Sophie, Dorian got Minerva. To ensure each Knight were properly motivated themselves anytime the young padawan screwed up the pupil was not the one punished, the mentor was. Minerva progressed in her training under Dorian's supervision Sullene, on the contrary, bore the brunt of Sophie's improprieties. While this ensued Starbuck was at this time barred from the grounds of Woodsfield's but took comfort in the fact that as long as both were well away from Abel they were safe.

Or so he thought.

The Jedi Knight-padawan arrangement garnered mixed reviews. Minerva was developing into something that at least resembled a soldier. Under Dorian's tutelage she had learned to follow and obey orders as well as developing a proficiency in weapons usage. Unbeknownst to the Delta Minerva had spent most of her time prior to her kidnapping helped hunt, set traps and retrieved the bounty back home at the school. All these skills and more the Delta was more than willing to help hone and refine.

The other twin was the classic example of when an unstoppable force meets and immovable object.

Unlike her sis, Soph spent much of her time working within the walls either working the greenhouse with Rube, pulling guard duty as need be or was elsewhere engaged in the regular upkeep and repair work within the grounds. The school's inhabitants were better off in those days of plenty with more territory being available for procuring both game and forage as well as having more than enough capable hands to work both inside and out. Times were still tough but at least there was more food to go around and the work load more evenly distributed. Soph also helped Omar fetch water for both cooking and washing as she hated the sliminess of fish and one day found much to her chagrin found herself to be violently allergic to the soft-bodied chordate. What a piss-poor time to discover you have a previously undiagnosed food allergy. What do you expect? When was the last time you heard anyone mention allergies when referencing the end of the world? Apocalypse or not, allergies don't give a darn about your suffering nor do they take a day off.

Going from the comparative paradise of the school to a harsh existence in the Delta was quite the shock to the twins' system to say the least. The same could be said if you were to drop a Harvard sophomore into the heart of Harlem or Inglewood. Where as Minerva overcame her aversion to killing walkers the younger twin seemed disinclined to learn so much as which way to orient an arrow. A new system was needed.

This one was dastardly brilliant in its simplicity and efficacy. Now whenever one twin messes up the other was punished, thereby pitting one against the other.

And there a rift began to form.

Insofar as this change went Starbuck was oblivious to its existence. Remember this was the time he was serving his sentence from the fight. Having suffered the humiliation of getting booted from Woodsfield he moped about wearing an imaginary sign around his neck bearing the legend 'Warning: Does Not Play Well With Others', a most unjust accusation to anyone aware of Abel's reputation. In private the two who witnessed the fight applauded Starbuck's action and left those who only heard of the bout envious at having missed what must have been one helluva show.

His sentence also included tilling the Delta's fields, chopping wood or being engaged in whatever scut work was required by any other communities. If no volunteers were forth coming for the shit jobs – send in the Starbuck as Lilly had informed the leadership of Gallipolis and Huntington. Weeks, months, however long long it was one day a replacement crew arrived they informed him that two members up and vanished one night. We're all too familiar with this song and dance. They're dead. To even try to escape was bat shit crazy. No matter which way one turned you'll eventually run into the arms of the horde. What really happened was both went fishing or decided to go for a swim, wandered too far out and drowned. Someday some hunter will take a piss somewhere and discover the remains or come across the pair – now as walkers. Another example of death by misadventure. Neither the first nor the last.

But then the follow-up crew brought with them some startling news: One of the two missing soldiers had returned. As the new arrivals relayed the details of this astonishing new development Starbuck found himself flabbergasted after realizing the AWOL soldiers were none other than the twins. As the story went the one turned herself over to a sentry and when brought before Lilly pleaded for mercy and clemency, claiming to have killed her sister out of loyalty to what was now her true home. Starbuck grabbed the storyteller by the lapels, grilling the man for more details, the man's life being spared by uttering the words, “Red hair. Dike haircut.”

Starbuck's felt his heart stopped.

Minerva.

Leaving the man to crumble to the ground Starbuck ran off, liberating the nearest horse belonging to one of the replacement crew and tore off towards Woodsfield. Granted, revenge may be a powerful motivator when the time comes to get shit done but no means does it make you fucking empowered especially when it comes to driving a car or riding on top of a half ton animal. Would you be surprised to hear that this was no graceful ride as seen by the Lone Ranger or the Midnight Ride of Paul Revere? Nope, instead he looked more akin to a tethered ball bearing inside of a pinball machine which was subjected to constant bouncing and jostling about the saddle. His kidneys were taking some major punishment and his testicles took a pounding and it this went on much longer he could try out for the Bee Gees.

All hilarity aside, there rode a man on a mission. A man fueled by anger. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and controlled every muscle fiber, every brain synapse firing at emergency power levels and running at ludicrous speed.

Although he was no skillful rider that didn't preclude him from having an eventful trip nonetheless. Riding horseback at full gallop whilst dodging the odd walker was enough to make anyone's hair stand on end and easily kicked up the pucker factor to eleven. Just some good, clean, wholesome fun to break up what would ordinarily have been a rather boring day in the park. One where you would be inclined to say 'Another day, another dollar.'

Until you miss one.

Such as the one engaged in a solo game of peek-a-boo behind a tree that struck your mount's shoulder sending walker, horse, and rider all crashing violently to earth. The resultant tumble knocked the wind out of Starbuck but forgot all about the pain and discomfort as the walker was seen struggling to get to its feet. Still winded, he spanned the distance, dispatching the walker by sinking his V42 into the back of its skull as it was still on hands and knees. Struggling to regain his breath he groaned upon seeing the horse waddling off without a care in the world. Had he not been in need of a ride he would turn that animal into a bucket of glue and paint brushes. Suffering the indignity of falling off a horse was bad enough but he couldn't help but ask himself _“What next?”_ before forcing the thought away knowing such thoughts were known to bring forth disaster. Taking flight, he remounted the wayward beast, resuming the mission at hand.

After a most non-triumphant journey covering many miles both arrived at Woodsfield and both looked and felt like something the cat dragged in. Upon gaining entry Starbuck hailed the first people he came across and demanded to know the whereabouts of Minerva. Here began the first of many events which would culminate in Starbuck's ascension to ultimate rule. Both sentries, having only just arrived from Huntington two days prior, thought nothing of the request and dutifully answered. To them it was just another day in Paradise Lost. How were they to know of Starbuck's expulsion and had unwittingly divulged the location of the very woman he wished to kill? Wasn't like the Delta printed and distributed a newspaper called the Delta Daily News or _Better Trash-Heaps and Gardens_ or anything.

Worming his way towards the makeshift stables he spotted his objective replacing a rotten section of fencing, the sound of rushing feet causing the remaining twin to turn towards the source of the noise and bolted.

And so a foot race commenced.

Minerva held the advantage in the stride length but Starbuck compensated as his legs were powered by unadulterated homicidal passion – Minerva powered by that queer desire of not wanting to die. The race covered some time and distance as they weaved in and out around obstacles and residents alike. No doubt the observers being amused and curious as to why one was being chased by a knife wielding attacker. Probably some domestic dispute with someone getting caught porkin' someone they shouldn't have been. All they knew was as sure as the sun will rise Lilly will not be a happy camper.

The lead the murderous twin enjoyed at first reduced to nil after tripping over an exposed tree root. Having regained her footing Starbuck had all but closed the gap. Reaching out with one hand and made contact with just enough boot to send the villainous twin tumbling tits over teacup. The abrupt deceleration had the adverse affect of causing Starbuck to lose his balance as well and drop his knife. His attention was divided between maintaining a firm hold on Minerva's ankle all the while ignoring the repeated blows from her free foot on his knuckles while blindly searching for the missing knife. At long last his fingers touched leather and grasping the knife brought it down and a hair-raising scream split the air followed by the satisfying sight as a stream of blood oozed from her thigh. Again he raised the knife, this time intent on driving the seven inch blade straight into that black fucking heart –

Then the lights went out.

“You can use your imagination what happened next. Just – just tell me.” He said, clearing his throat. “Did Tenn know about Sophie – and Minerva's betrayal?”

“Sorta.” Vi answered solemnly. “I told him we ran into Minnie a few days before and Soph was dead. Never got to tell him ab out Minnie – ”. Clem cut in, knowing Tenn's death hit her friend especially hard and was still a tender subject even after all these months.

“Tenn wanted me to tell her that he forgives her.”

“So, Violet – Tenn never knew the details about Sophie's – death?”

“No. Just that she died sometime ago. 'Died a hero' like Minnie told us.

Starbuck chortled at first but said nothing else for some time. “Good.” An uncomfortably long pause now descended on the table yet again before he repeated himself. “Good.” He drew in a long breath before exhaling slowly. “You did Tenn a solid, AJ. Shooting him.” That got the kid's dander up. To say that poor Tenn, the boy who liked nothing more than to draw and make people happy was better off dead was enough for the Delta's leader to lose major popularity points, like he cared. Vi had the urge to leap out of her seat and throttle the man opposite her and almost did so when Linc spoke up.

“He betta off. He done left his pain here on dis Earth.”

“Correct.” Starbuck began before narrowing his eyes. “Go ahead and be offended. Facts don't care about your feelings. Your 'friend' not only killed her sister but let her turn.”

Now _that_ was enough to bring down the house. Everyone was equally floored some gasped, and Vi looked about ready to puke.

“Oh mah lord! How d'ya know? Did ya – ” Ruby asked.

Starbuck interrupted, nodding, “I saw her,” before correcting himself. “It.”

After his back healed and now able to participate in patrols someone with butter fingers inadvertently let off a round while struggling through some underbrush. On the plus side the round struck nothing but air unfortunately nothing grabs the attention of the dead like a gun shot and on they came like shit on Velcro, en masse. Left with no alternatives providing both cover and concealment at ground level only one direction remained. Up. Each picked their own arboreal slice of heaven each hoped was adequately strong enough to support their weight. Willy found the sentiment all too familiar, the memory of his own misadventure still fresh in his mind. Logic and experience dictated that as long as one remains silent the herd would eventually pass none the wiser allowing those hidden to make good their escape under cloak of darkness. Unfortunately, as this occurred near midday it appeared as though they weren't going anywhere in the foreseeable future.

'Not going anywhere for awhile? Bite into a Snickers.'

Stuck twenty-plus feet in the air may not be the most ideal place to find oneself for extended periods of time – especially when gotta piss, or worse, shit. At least you can entertain yourself by seeing how close you can get to taking a leak on a walker's head. The joy being stuck on the same spot for hours on end, waiting for walkers to fuck off can be attested to by many at both the Delta and Ericson's. But, as with anything came a silver lining in the form of providing the weary traveler with an uncanny, near panoramic view of their surroundings given the terrain and foliage. You'd be surprised as to the kind of view you can obtain from so high a vantage point. It also gives one time to reflect on the Meaning of Life, the Universe and Everything. Forty two. As best as could be determined Ho-Jon alone held the record. Alas he left his watch on the night stand and estimated he spent the better part of a day and a half stuck up a tree like some spooked feline.

Ho, finding himself already in a most unenviable position by any stroke of the imagination, discovered no trees of sufficient size to support his slender frame nearby and to add insult to injury, found his window of opportunity rapidly closing. Mind you, running was out of the question as walkers seemed to emerge from the woodwork, no pun intended. Instead he found cover – more accurately _got_ covered. Grabbing heaping handfuls of thick, viscous mud he smeared the goo over every square inch of his body, leaving little to chance. Ho-Jon next pull he what brush, lose branches and leaves over his person as time permitted and staying as still as possible and watched in fascination as the herd inched its way closer and closer to his place of concealment. This situation the Asian found himself in was reminiscent of that scene in the movie _The Predato_r where Arnold is hiding from the antagonist who's infrared imagery is unable to detect the movie's hero. The similarities between the two was enough to bring a smile to his face despite his plight until he sensed something sneaking up from behind.

His worst fear.

Spiders.

Now when we say 'spiders' you may be so inclined as to envisage the harmless, docile, seemingly domesticated daddy long leg whose webs festoon the corners of rooms, behind furniture and bathrooms. No, no, no, no, no. In this instance, when we say 'spider' we're talking about those big, hairy, black motherfuckers of death. The burn-the-house-down-instead-of-getting-close kind. Clamping a hand over his mouth he forced himself to find a mental happy place to keep from screaming like a bitch and revealing the hidey-hole. Spending an entire day stalking game, exploring the perimeter of the school undetected, surrounded by walkers and even exploring the school grounds under the very nose of a dog was no problem at all. Despite all that, when it came to the humble arachnid he drew the line.

Alas, we again fall victim to digression. But take solace, dear reader, that as we come towards the end of our latest narrative we fall victim to digression less and less.

Back to Starbuck's tree.

After what felt like an eternity, as the herd's ranks began to thin out and Starbuck was beginning to nod off something in the distance jolted him awake like a triple shot espresso pumped straight into the bloodstream. A few minutes more he caught a glimpse of something which, had his grip not been secure, would have sent him plummeting to earth. As this particular walker emerged from the woods and into a partial clearing it was easy to discern that this one was – fresher looking. If that's the correct phrase to use.

Oh horrors of horrors. It was Sophie.

Even from that distance there was no mistaking the long red hair, so dissimilar from her sister's. It took all the concentration and strength he could muster to hold onto his meager branch as he observed walker Sophie amble her way closer and closer. The reanimated corpse passed, continuing aimlessly towards its final destination – if walkers even have one. Maybe they walk and walk until something checks their progress or if they walk until one or both feet fall off.

Even without the hair he could tell the walker's identity based on the coat the walker wore. That collarless brown and tan leather coat with white piping down the sleeves which Soph always wore zipped up as protection against the wind. However the jacket was not impervious from the series of stab wounds peppering the small of her back which he was just able to discern as it passed.

The horde – Sophie among them, moved on to parts unknown until the last walker was swallowed up by the vast expanse of West Virginian forest. One by one the patrol climbed down from their respective roosts, thankful the logging consortiums of old had long since shuffled off this mortal coil, leaving them this place of refuge. Back on solid ground they did a head count and discovered Starbuck was MIA.

He had yet to descend from his tree. Not that he craved human interaction at that moment.

Tears stained his face. Not the tears over the loss of a friend or a loved one – even though we know him to be partial to redheads. No, these were tears of unbridled frustration and rage. Frustration having found his efforts to keep them safe from Abel's clutches and the additional punishment he endured were for naught. Rage at the idea that one had figuratively and literally, stabbed the other in the back, allowing them to turn. The ultimate slap in the face. The ultimate punishment. The act of killing of another living, breathing human being was something that just happened during the course of trying to exist day to day in this topsy-turvy world. You could say it's the cost of doing business in a world where individual survival is crucial to all who wish to continue doing so. Until doing much the same to Loric he held the view that killing someone within arms reach and leaving them turn was one of the most despicable acts one man could commit onto his fellow man. Finding Abel had been left to turn had been the highlight of his early days at the school. This was different. He killed in order to save the lives of others, allowing himself to take over and make a positive difference that greatly improved the lives of all concerned. Sophie's murder held no such merit, no such justification. Something caused Minerva to snap and become a murderer. She became a murderer but for what reason was unclear.

All those days spent immobile from those extra lashes. Wasted. Putting his ass, even his life on the line, endeavoring to ensure both remained safe. Wasted. It was enough to make one ponder why bother doing anything in the first place, why even stick ones neck out for strangers. Who cares if the world had gone to hell in a hand basket as the world's population grew smaller and smaller with each passing day. What was the point? What was to be gained? What did he expect to accomplish? Take up the banner as society's watch dog and aspire to take the moral high ground? Defend what little remained of humanity and prevent its further putrefaction which was becoming more and more rampant – if there was even any of either left to preserve.

As doubt crept in he rested his back against the tree's trunk and began to reconsider some of his past choices and actions and weighed each as to whether they did more harm than good. Did they serve their intended purpose or had they delayed the inevitable? In all honesty his actions may have indirectly sealed Sophie's fate.

Deep within the recesses of his mind something popped and a sizzled like blown electrical fuse followed by a sudden burst of clarity that seemed to reach out an invisible and whacked him in the back of the head. A thought that until now had never crossed him mind seemed to soar across the ether, transplanting itself into his noodle. Why it had failed to be seen until this day would remained a mystery. The sight of the slain twin must have been the impetus, the source of luminescence exposing his erroneous assumption regarding the chain of events culminating in Sophie becoming one with walkers. Literally.

Minerva killed Sophie. Duh. But what drove one twin to kill the other? Divided loyalties. One, loyalty to friends and family. The other, loyalty to their new 'home'. What caused that rift to develop between the two? Punishments received because of the mistakes of the other. But surely something else provided that germ, that seed, an suitable environment to grow and flourish which ultimately resulted in cold-blooded murder. Something also created confusion as to what each twin defined as 'home'.

The plan certainly was diabolically brilliant in its execution, simplicity and its efficacy.

That was it!

Lilly's plan.

Lilly's plan. Lilly's doing. Lilly's Delta. Lilly's manipulations. Lilly's twisting and poisoning of Minerva's mind. Lilly, Lilly, Lilly, _Lilly_, _LILLY_!

The hatred, the rage – all focused on the wrong person. All this time. It was Lilly who agreed to a deal with the leader of Ericson's. It was Lilly who wanted new bodies, ones to turn to into mindless, sycophantic soldiers even the others from the Delta were less than pleased at the idea. Even the leadership of Gallipolis and Huntington decried the kidnapping once aware of the act. But as Lily reminded both, each community was by and large autonomous in conducting their business so take care of yours, I'll take care of mine. Still, why waste the time, the energy and a host of other finite resources on people who in all probability would get themselves killed by walkers or shoot themselves or someone else? If not then whose to say in the middle of their first firefight they wouldn't lose their shit, drop their weapon, and with tail tucked between their legs – flee?

Well, there was no longer any need for concern about the welfare of either twin. Up there, perched twenty-some odd feet up a mighty white oak Starbuck decided Lilly must die.

And there he began to plot his coup.

“I recruited Josiah a week later. From there I slowly built up a following. Then...an army.” He said, wiping away a tear, obviously still affected by the experience. His people held their peace as did Clem's.

At long last the final piece of the puzzle regarding the fate of their dearly departed friend was revealed, the story behind the act of sororicide. For those who knew and grew up with the twins and Tenn this was a metric ton of information to digest and absorb all in one sitting. Despite how hard it was to accept by now they knew the man was spittin' the truth as it helped to explains Minerva's words and deeds both times they encountered her post-kidnapping.

“Anyone familiar with the story _Beauty and the Beast_?” A few nods, a raised hand or two. “Abridged version: Woman gets kidnapped by a man transformed into an ugly, hairy monster. Woman begins to feel sorry for him, begins to sympathize with him. Much the same here. The twins were brought to the Delta but only one came to see that she was better off with this new life instead of the old one. Lilly poisoned her mind – corrupted it. Made her forget all about those who truly mattered until one day she killed the last remaining link to that life she once knew. There's a name for what happened to Minerva. It's called Stockholm Syndrome.

“Whoa. Heavy shit.” Willy said, a touch of sadness on his voice.

“Aye, that it is.”

“Would've broken Tenn's heart had he known.” Clem added.

Linc agreed. “Dat it would. Sad to say but it betta dis way.”

Everyone got so engrossed in Storytime Number Two that none noticed the fire had all but gone out. By the time Maddy mentioned it the fire was nothing more than a bed of hot coals with the odd flickering flame.

“On that note how bout we call it a night? Right?”

“No arguments here.”

“Right right. To recap: the Queen Bitch is dead and I'm in. Let's get some shut eye. Clem, if we may impose for a few days we'll help get you guys prepped for the up and coming winter. I got ideas to bounce off of you on some improvements.

Clementine was more than willing. “Sure. We could use all the extra help we can get. We got a some things we could use some help with.”

“Make it so, Mr. Sulu.”

“Ya'll can sleep in the nurse's station if ya'll want. Getcha outta that dank basement.”

Starbuck smiled. “Check it out, ladies and germs. You five can fight it out for the beds. I'll take the floor.”

“I'll go grab our blanket rolls from downstairs. Goodnight everyone.” The kids wished Zachariah goodnight and as if of one mind, stood, stretched and turned in for the night.

The next few days promised to be busy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to all of you who have enjoyed my little project thus far. There will most likely be a larger gap between the posting of this chapter and the next so please bear with me.


	13. Amends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Les Stroud aka Survivorman and Dave Canterbury for their books I usead as reference material for writing this chapter. As always leave a comment and let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Something was about to burst. Some inward force pushed outward against the inner walls of the vessel which contained a substance which resided dangerously on the cusp of bursting, threatening to spew its contents in a three hundred and sixty degree arc. An audible high-pitched sound was also heard periodically but no other man or beast was around to hear it and the warning it entailed. Was this some bomb or some vat of some viscous liquid like molasses which threatened to burst at the seams, spreading its contents over everything? Well – kinda.

See, we're talking about Rosie's bladder. And that high-pitched sound was her whimpering.

Once Clem and Omar shut the door behind them as they made their introduction with Starbuck, Rosie was left alone to sniff and whimper at the door as the sound of her master's footsteps and clomps rapidly faded. After several minutes more spent whimpering, sniffing, followed by some pointless scratching at the door the pup gave up and walked in a circle a few times on her bed before curling up into a ball and laying down. Once upon a time she would have investigated to see what all the hubbub was about by going out onto the balcony and no doubt would have seen Starbuck and his entourage as she peered down. Except there was that lousy wall to contend with.

The dang-flabbit wall Willy and Aasim built on Clem's orders to keep Rosie from venturing onto the balcony and plummeting to the ground like Clem and Abel had done. The wall was only a few feet high, nothing more than a few pieces of plywood schlepped together to form would could vaguely called a wall. It only needed to be functional, not pretty. Just tall enough that Rosie could rest her paws on but not so she could jump or look over.

_Jerk humans. _

But as soon as those sensitive ears picked up the sounds of voices returning from the card game Rosie went full on apeshit in a not-so-subtle way of reminding them that she still existed. Upon hearing the barking Louis rushed up the steps and opened the door so as to let to pooch go for a tinkle – instead Rosie expressed her extreme displeasure by leaving a deposit right next to Clem's chair. Lou reluctantly grabbed a few sheets of paper from a box hoping to remove the turd before Clem noticed and holding his breath to keep from gagging from the smell, flung the dung out and over the balcony and into the courtyard below – right where Aasim would step on it come morning. Aasim cleaned most of the poo from his boot, but alas, not the smell. By the time everyone awoke they found nature cared not one bit for the work they planed on performing this day. When Clem awoke and she walked to her office Rosie greeted her master with a low growl, something she hadn't done since Clem's first day there. Peering out into the courtyard, from the flagpole and beyond all there was to see was a dense pea-soup fog that obscured everything. Any outside work would have to wait until the fog burned off.

Then the heavens opened.

Rain or not, Starbuck was never one to waste a day, especially on account of inclement weather. Having already conferred with Ho-Jon in his early days as Stanley pertaining to the Asian's nighttime recon he asked the Lead Scout about any further recommendations before consulting with Clem. Clem showed both men the map she had drawn up detailing the school's defenses prior to the attack and the other given to her by Marlon. From there Starbuck and Ho-Jon outlined their proposals – seeing as they were business partners and all. Many of the projects were ones found in any survival book intended to aid Joe Citizen or Joe Boy Scout to survive or could be found in the US Army's FM 21-76 Survival Manual. As fortune smiled on them shelter and security were already provided for thanks to Ericson's perimeter fence and the buildings so their efforts could be focused on making the school cozier and just a wee bit more tolerable.

Since no outside work was getting done today he directed the others to go ahead and begin indoors instead. Splitting up the crowd into two teams Starbuck took one to the first floor whilst the remainder took the second floor to scrounge, and/or cannibalize any and all things for future use out of the cornucopia of crap strewn about the halls, offices and rooms.

Zachariah, Vi, Willy, AJ, and Maddy hardly made it up the steps when the sound of a running dog made Zachariah blanch and executing a pirouette on the stairs, ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The man had never been fond of dog, doubly so one of Rosie's size. Zack ran as fast as he could, bounding down the steps three at a time, the pit nipping at his heels. Once outdoors the prey desperately seeked its only salvation from that bowling ball-sized head chock full of sharp, pointy teeth – Lady G. Past the horse he ran, the poor creature still tied to the lamppost, stoically standing there in the rain and looking rather forlorn. Hard to tell which critter was more startled by the other – horse having never seen dog and dog never seen horse. Lady G, perceiving a source of danger, reared back on her hind legs and began kicking those powerful front legs for all her worth. This knee-jerk reaction of a spooked animal weighing nearly half a ton was enough to knock the starch out of any lesser animal, as it was Rosie. Safe asylum from man's supposed best friend having been secured Zachariah was more than happy to keep Lady G company in the rain until Rosie – still barking her ever-loving head off – was finally locked up in the office. Turns out _some_one failed to make sure the office door was latched before leaving. Not that we wish to point fingers or anything.

_Louis_.

Having thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle – all except Zack – they regrouped and returned to the work at hand, each team commencing to tear down or up any and all things not bolted or otherwise secured. Even what was secured was easily dealt with by use of a crowbar which Lady G carried along with a bunch of other Delta goodies the day Maddy and Josiah dropped by to say 'Hello' with Vi and AJ in tow. The broken chairs which constituted the majority of the junk blocking access to the halls were torn apart. Unused beds and other discarded pieces of furniture met a similar fate, the wood being divvied up into piles of what could be reused and what was earmarked for firewood. Nails and fasteners of all types were carefully removed and/or straightened as need be for repairs or construction. The portraits that graced the walls of the school and long since vandalized were taken down and served a higher purpose by sealing up many of the broken or missing window panes.

Even the fire extinguishers, long since exhausted, having been used up during the festivities on the first day that law and order vacated the premises. Mitch had enveloped Ruby in a cloud of fire extinguishing agent that left her with breathing difficulties for days afterwards, causing a rift to develop between the two which never dissipated until Mitch's premature death. Though the extinguishers were now as useful in their intended purpose as a trumpet is for a chicken the rubber hoses could be reconstituted to create a rain catch when added to a tarp and bucket. The rain water would collect then flow into the bottom of the tarp where it was then funneled into the hose then down into a bucket. The hose could also be utilized in the wild to fetch a drink of water from some hard to reach spot or small pool of water.

A true bonanza was found on the second floor when, having cleared away the detritus closing off a long-forgotten hall was found the late custodian's closet. The closet, no larger than a studio apartment's bathroom and tucked away in a far off corner, contained much of the usual tools of the trade. Mops, brooms, dustpans, buckets, opened and unopened bottles of bleach were all found stacked or leaning haphazardly against a series of shelves along with bottles of various cleaning agents specially designed to clean and disinfect all types of surfaces. But it was the label belonging to some which drew the attention of man, woman and child alike and rendered all silent. After moments of shocked silence the significance of that one word sank in and was enough to bring on the tears.

_SOAP!_ Great gobs of gooseshit! Real honest-to-goodness _soap! _

For the first time in ages they had at their disposal the means to wash away the years of filth and grime from their clothes and bodies. Some of those buckets would be put to use transporting water or for rain catches. The kids were told that by placing a series of holes in the bottom of the bucket a shower-head of sorts could be had. Suspend the 'shower-head' from a tripod or pole and _voila_ – a shower! With luck they could rig up some kind of shower curtain from a blanket or something and now with a system providing at least some modicum of privacy an assistant could pour water into the overhead bucket as someone else showered.

Another lucky find came from the offices once belonging to one of the many not so dearly departed faculty members in the form of a whiskey barrel cut in half which once contained one of those massive sunflowers. How a flower that size was expected to thrive in such small confines was beyond them and it came as no surprise that the flower had long since ceased to be. Be that as it may, the real takeaway were those steel hoops. Those hoops would work perfectly for making a fish basket trap. This casual announcement was cause for more than its fair share of raised eyebrows but since the weather was still sucky the kids were left to their imagination as to what malarkey Linc was talking about. If by chance the weather took pity on them they would have the ability to gather the necessary components for the traps and snares the Delta member next mapped out.

Alas, by the time the rain stopped darkness had crept in but not long after the rain's cessation the clouds parted like Moses had parted the Red Sea and the first stars twinkled. Starbuck invited all of Ericson's populace to join him at the flag pole in two hours time for a lesson in one of his favorite subjects. Astronomy.

The night sky long held a deep fascination with the man, ever since he was at least Willy's age, if not before. Many hours, in his formative years, had been spent laying on his back during the night gazing up into the infinite reaches of space. There he would identify the vast assortment of constellations, stars, planets, even nebulae and observe the phases of the moon – everything. Didn't matter whether accomplished by use of the naked eye, binoculars or with the two point seventy-five inch Celestron refracting telescope his old man bought on his birthday.

Mankind's fascination has been captivated by the night sky for as long as man has lived, long causing the Earthbound observer to look and wonder aloud: What is the meaning of life, the universe, and everything? For those of you playing at home, the answer is 42. It wasn't until more modern times that man truly began to appreciate the infinite size and scale of the universe – just how bigly and huge the whole kit and caboodle is. Just think: light is the fastest thing anywhere, soaring through the cosmos at one hundred and eighty-six thousand miles per second. Not per hour – but per second! Figure there's seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in a hour, twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days in a year – for simplicity's sake let's skip leap years. Multiply that by the speed of light and – that's...umm... – well – a lot of zeros. Not only that but apart from our sun the nearest star is nearly five light years from where Ericson's stood.

Let's end it there before we digress. Hang in there, gang. We're almost to the end of the story and we're almost digression-free.

Fascinating though this all is the degree of minutiae detail involved wasn't worth the aggravation nor the headache to try to explaining to a batch of adolescents and young adults who hadn't received anything even remotely resembling a proper education in years.

_Perhaps someday. _

Still, as he explained and outlined each object in the night sky most of the class seemed interested or at least put on a good show. Not surprising that AJ stood there enraptured, soaking up all this information like the sponge he was. There's nothing that compares to the thrill one gets when teaching others about a subject that you're passionate about. The same holds true when telling a joke and the whole room bursts out in raucous laughter or giving a speech that receives thunderous applause. This is one of the feelings teachers experience during their tenure in education. Well, perhaps not the bitter, resentful ones who walk into class and whisper conspiratorially to themselves, 'A few more years of these miserable little bastards and I can _finally_ retire. Sneaky little hobbitses. Wicked, tricksy, false!' The kind of teachers you can just imagine spend their summers sleeping in coffins or sleep upside down like a bat.

What really had Starbuck tickled pink was the sight of Violet, of all people, nearly as keen as AJ – an event most worthy of mention in Aasim's ledger of daily affairs. With no artificial light source and with Earth in the beginning stages of cleansing itself from centuries of man's pollutants there remained little to spoil the view of the the multitude of celestial bodies in the heavens, leaving them to shine unmolested up there. As he continued his musings Vi once interrupted to ask an honest-to-goodness _question!_

_Gasp!_ I know. 'Be still my heart...'

She confessed to having held the mistaken belief that astrology and astronomy were one in the same and asked the difference. The teacher smiled and patiently explained the different astrological signs and their respective meanings as best as he could recall. As far as he was concerned horoscopes and astrology were both bunch of self-aggrandizing crap, a deliberate act to part a fool and their money to fatten the purses of charlatans claiming to be able to 'see' into some other-worldly mumbo-jumbo codswallop yakkity yak. In other words – bullshit.

“I'd put faith in fortune cookies before some two sentence blurb in a newspaper or the word of some three thousand pound Haitian prick named Miss Something-Or-Other.”

The real takeaway from the lesson was to illustrate how a basic understanding of the night sky could aid the weary traveler in navigation by locating true North by way of the star Polaris, which was now situated high above the perimeter wall just to the left of the graveyard. The teacher knew where it was but wanted his students to take an active part in the class. Any teacher worth their salt , regardless of discipline, won't just stand there and _give_ the answers but allows the pupil to _engage_ in the lesson to discover the answer for themselves. He got them started by pointing out the Big Dipper – Ursa Major to use its Latin name – he requested the ensemble to take a gander at the last two stars that constituted the 'cup' of the dipper and draw an imaginary line upwards until the line intersected with the closest star. Polaris, the North star. Afterwards, they were instructed to point back at the star with an outstretched finger and with their feet planted, told to raise that arm over their heads – Starbuck supported Clementine so she wouldn't pitch over – until that finger pointed directly behind them.

“And that, over yonder, is South. And so endeth the lesson.”

Class dismissed.

The next morning shone bright and beautiful with nary a cloud in the sky, the perfect weather for lounging about and soaking up some rays, had this not been November and with winter just around the corner. As Clem's clan awoke the most of the Delta were already up and ready for a day which was bound to be busy. But all in good time.

Well that good time was interrupted by Drill Instructor Linc who flung the double doors leading to the dorms wide open and emerged with Starbuck following closely behind. Linc's deep, bellowing voice reverberated against the walls and throughout the grounds, scaring the bejeezus out of everybody as Linc ordered them to drop their cocks and grab their socks before briskly walking indoors to rouse those slumbering lollygaggers who dare try to sleep in. With Linc gone Starbuck rattled off the day's line up and their respective assignments.

Today's assignments went thusly: Linc, Aasim, and Willy; hunting. Maddy, AJ and Rube; traps and wild edibles. Vi, Louis, Zachariah, Starbuck and Ho-Jon; wood detail. Omar and Clem were left to hold down the fort and keep Josiah out of trouble while he showed them a thing or two. Anyone with a free hand was instructed to bring back any wood or anything of use to the group.

One dictum, long held by Starbuck, he aspired to impart onto those of Ericson's, 'Everyone a job, everyone a purpose.' With Clem unable to leave the school without the constant aid of others and with Omar in only slightly better shape both must be given something constructive whilst confined inside the wire. The chef was tactfully ordered to have Clem start helping him with cooking responsibilities and learn what she could from him which caused the chef to bristle. The mere idea of being made to share cooking responsibilities he found reprehensible, to say the least, even more so than taking orders from a man whose people once held him and his friends captive.

Each team sauntered off to their respective duties, the gate was buttoned down as Josiah started off showing how to construct a Dakota Fire Pit. This style of cooking was done first by digging two holes, one straight down and a smaller one dug at a steep angle with a tunnel connecting both. The larger of the two holes was where the actual cooking took place while the smaller one allowed for airflow. This type of fire held several advantages over the traditional cooking fire: an unobstructed source of airflow made this type of fire extremely fuel efficient, only the vessels and cooking implements were seen above ground level and there being little to no visible smoke.

With some scrap pieces of wood Josiah built a series of pot hangers which were branches a foot or so in length with an offshoot branch trimmed down to several inches at either end. These pot holders were used in conjunction with a horizontal pot crane consisting of a pair of 'Y' shaped branches embedded into the ground with a ridge pole spanning the two. One hook from a pot holder attached to the ridgepole while the other hook suspended the pot above the flame.

With the wood party's arrival they spread out the fruits of their labors onto the picnic tables to dry as a result of the previous day's deluge. As the others went about their business Ho-Jon separated himself and reaching the lamp post stuck a twig in the ground at the terminus of lamppost's shadow and asked Josiah to please monitor the movement of the shadow as the day progressed. When Clem pressed him for an explanation the Asian only smiled and was told to 'Wait and see,' before rejoining the others. Apparently his leader wasn't the only one to hold his cards close to the chest.

The wood now laid out to dry in the sun they grabbed the Chef's prized cooking pot and some of the late janitor's buckets and set out, this time in search of water while the rest went for more wood. A quick note about firewood: look at your wood pile. Now collect four times as much.

Now with more wood at their disposal Clem and Omar, as Josiah supervised, tried their hand at building pot hangers then made the pot crane and a rotisserie of sorts. By all outward appearances the rotisserie looked, as well as functioned, like the pot crane, the only exception being the rotisserie's ridgepole was a debarked piece of green wood. The raw meat was then skewered, like an shish kabob on steroids, and rotated periodically until the proper 'doneness' was achieved.

The real fun started when the hunting party returned with their goodies including half a dozen rabbits and a Black Rat Snake before taking their leave. It would be naïve to believe that anyone at the school was by now not well versed in the art of cleaning rabbits that Josiah identified as Eastern Cottontails. Snakes on the other hand – well, that was a new one for the school. Gutting a snake is fairly straight forward but first one must remove the head. Luckily for the Chef and Clem the snake had long been dead, otherwise when the head was removed the body would be all twisting and squirming and shit as if voicelessly saying, “Hey now! What gives? Where'd my head go? And why is my neck enjoying a pleasant breeze?” The snake – sans head – was then cut vertically down its belly, its entrails removed and the skin peeled back like a sticky sock after a long day on the job. Clem stood admiring the snake's satiny-black skin and white underbelly. Josiah asked if it would be okay to give to her kid after it dried, a gesture she was much grateful for. It would make a cool momento for Goofball's room. Josiah's kind gesture had a more secretive, ulterior motive to it as he still felt just a little guilty over how things went down when he and AJ first met and hoped this might square things.

Having prepared the snake Josiah next took one of the cottontails in hand and grasping the cute widdle bunny wabbit behind its front legs, slowly squeezed the chest cavity of the rabbit and working his way downwards until reaching the rear legs. The two neophytes stood perplexed and looked curiously on wondering what-the-actual-fuck he was doing – an regretted it. Grasping the cottontail by its front legs and the onlookers breath caught in their throats as he seemed intent on bashing the poor Leporidae* into the ground. Instead, at the last possible moment the rabbit swung like a pendulum between his legs where gravity and momentum took over and the rabbit's intestines sailed into the wild blue yonder – as did Clem and Omar's last meal. To be honest, the sight was enough to turn even the most ardent of carnivores into an instant vegetarian. Be that as it may, this method meant no knife was needed thereby extending the life of the knife's edge. There was a method to this madness after all, even if such a lesson came at the expense of ones last meal.

A mile or so outside the wire our triumvirate comprising the wild edibles party caught sight of their hunting compatriots two hundred yards off. AJ and Ruby waved excitedly in a desperate bid to draw the attention of their friends and allies who seemed all but oblivious to their wild gesticulations. Maddy joined in as well. Just as seemed lost Aasim caught movement out of the corner of his eye and getting Willy's attention both returned the greeting. Linc couldn't care less.

Returning to Casa de Ericson's they dropped off their haul – the brace of squirrels and a solitary rabbit leaving a lot to be desired in the food department. Not all hope was lost as Ruby dropped off an armload of some white, curly-cued bark along with some kind of vine. Maddy dropped the bedroll slung across her body and opening it up explained its contents and each item's usages.

The curly-cued bark came from the Birch tree which made excellent fire starting material as the oils contained within its bark took to flame like gasoline, even when wet. The vine was the outer bark from Honeysuckle which Maddy described as a source of cordage after it was soaked in water to make it more pliable and then weaved into thin diameter rope. The contents of the bedroll were a strange and motley assortment of weeds, flowers, odd looking and misshapen bulbs and even included a handful of some weird-looking things which, to the eye of the untrained urbanite, appeared to be hot dogs! Willy would be thrilled with this discovery.

“Go ahead, Clem. Try one. They're _really_ good.” AJ said, holding one out for her to take. Something was off about that grin that graced the little one's face which didn't exactly imbue trust and was cause for suspicion as to why the sudden burst of enthusiasm. Then again she had yet to eat today and it was close to nap time so best get something in her stomach. What harm could come of it? Josiah's rabbit trick sure as shit didn't help.

And neither did AJ's 'treat'.

AJ, Ruby, Omar, Maddy, and Josiah threw back their heads and roared with laughter as our beloved debutante spit out a mouthful of fluff. Once done spitting out what she could she began the arduous task of plucking out each piece of fluff that stuck to the roof of her mouth, tongue and damnation even managed to wedge in between her teeth.

“_That's_ payback for that salt lick!” AJ shrieked in boyish laughter. What comes around goes around Ms. Clem. She had just been punked by none other than a halfling – the little shit. Not like she could hold it against him nor did she cling to the false notion of not deserving to be on the receiving end of a practical joke. Rule One: If you can't take being pranked, don't prank others. She now thirsted for revenge however. Gotta sleep sometime.

Having plucked the last bit of fluff between her teeth Clem was left with her face beet-red as Maddy struggled to composed herself and explained the plant Clem had just partaken in was a cattail. A plant capable of growing upwards of ten feet in height, the shoots and roots of which were edible at different times of the year which could be enjoyed either raw or cooked, cooked being preferred. The six inch hot dog-looking doodad was its seed pod, the fluff was capable of bursting into flame with only the smallest of sparks.

“Most of yer berries are gona be out of season but ya'd have to be dense not to know what those are. That purple flower is clover, that's wild onion, and wild garlic. Those two you can grow in the greenhouse. Best bring 'em inside before it gets too cold.” AJ excitedly told Clem about a walker the trio came across during their foray into the wilderness. Maddy was about to pull the trigger when he stayed her hand and showed her a trick Clem taught him. Picking up a rock he chucked it with all his might in the opposite direction. The walker, upon hearing the noise, shuffled off in the direction of the disturbance, leaving no one the wiser as to their presence. AJ beamed with pride when Maddy added by complimenting Clem on teaching him such an ingenious trick as well as saving her the bullet.

“See? Getting smarter all the time. Always thinking!”

“Sure are, kiddo.” She replied with well deserved pride of her own. Just gazing at the lad he seemed to grow before her eyes.

If only she had an inkling of the trouble AJ would get into next.

Again they sallied forth, this time to the southwest, in search of more cordage material. One oft overlooked aspect of survival is using natural materials, as well as and a little ingenuity, to create or accomplish a task that allows the survivor to use the equipment they have on hand as little as possible. For example, instead of using an ax to cut wood place it in the crook of a tree and a little elbow grease, break it instead. Instead of using your knife you gut a rabbit, use Josiah's underhand-gut-chuck. In both examples the work gets done and helps retain the sharpness of the blade whether it belong to a knife, saw, ax, hatchet or any other type of cutting tool.

Rope is no exception. Rope is much like firewood in that you can never have enough and even when you think you have enough you need more. It can be used for lashing wood together, boot laces, vertical climbing up a tree or lowering gear down a steep drop, immobilizing a broken limb and a whole host of practical applications. Hell, with the know-how and enough rope you can make a hammock. Behold the power of boredom. Old-timey manila rope or other braided rope for that matter can be unwoven then processed into individual fibers for fishing use or even as sewing thread. Back home they also had a good supply of brightly-colored nylon rope liberated from Lilly's Delta but nylon rope has advantages that braided rope doesn't have but can't be unwoven. Possessing the knowledge of how to make additional rope from natural materials such as honeysuckle, certain vines and the bark of certain trees can be of tantamount importance and gives the survivors something productive to do. This is why that job was given to both Clem and Le Chef Omar. An inactive mind gets bored and you know what they say about idle hands.

At first glance the area wasn't looking too promising but they managed to score some birch bark – the dead, peeling kind. Not a good idea to peel the living bark off of the tree as you can kill the tree so best go for the dead stuff. They also scrounged up some saplings which always comes in handy.

Onward they hiked, Maddy and Rube were shooting the breeze while AJ trailed behind practicing knots Maddy showed him like the bowline, reef knot and the clove hitch with some strands of honeysuckle.

“Mah Gran-pappy raised hogs after mah Gram passed. Won first prize in the Clay County Fair as far back as ah can remember. Sumtin' like eight years runnin', if ah recollect. Even after she passed he never did slow down none. Always tinkerin' wit somethin'. Lawn tools, weed whackers, chainsaws, anythin' people brought 'im. If it had an engine he'd fix it. Never charged a dime neither.”

“Lucky.” The Delta member remarked. “My mom's parents were dead by the time I was seven. Dad's folks were in a nursing home over three hours away so I'd see 'em maybe once, twice a year. Biggest regret I had growing up –” Her trip down memory lane was cut short as a quartet of walkers were spotted ambling in their direction from their two o'clock. Like a flash they ducked behind the nearest available cover, Ruby and AJ behind a sugar maple and Maddy behind a fallen tree. Asking for a walker-free day was apparently out of the question. In retrospect, they should be grateful for a run in with just a handful of walkers as opposed to a swarm of those undead bastards. It by was pure chance that Maddy didn't have to shoot last time. The rock trick wouldn't work with this many walkers especially now that they'd been spotted.

Walkers had rung the dinner bell.

“They still comin'?” Ruby asked in a hoarse whisper. The sight of Maddy bringing her M1 up from the low-ready was enough to confirm the redhead's worst fears.

Maddy lined up the peep sight at the nearest one, a scant twenty yards away, when a voice from behind made her release the trigger.

"C'mon, let's take 'em!"

“Alvin Junior, you'll do no such fool thing!” Ruby said harshly. You knew shit was serious when Ruby called him by his full name.

Maddy concurred. “That's a negative, Ghost Rider.” But both warnings went unheeded as AJ's selective hearing picked a most inopportune time.

“Follow me!” He cried out. AJ leapt from his hiding place with a sapling in hand, narrowing missing Ruby's outstretched hand both women had much the same thought run through their heads.

_Clem's gona kill me. _

_Boss's gona kill me._

“AJ!!!”

“Fucking shit.” Maddy groaned. Vaulting over the fallen tree she tossed Ruby a knife and both raced off in pursuit of AJ. Maddy didn't dare risk a shot in the event a .30 caliber bullet connected with the wrong target now that AJ was running amongst walkers.

AJ was taking full advantage of his agility and short stature as he meandered between each walker in turn. When the opportunity presented itself he stuck the sapling he carried between each set of legs and either tripped or caused each walker to take a knee. Given the walkers' varying degrees of rigor mortis and decomposition activities like yoga, patting your head and rubbing your belly were out of the question – let alone reaching down to grab a quick snack which refused to stand still. As if that wasn't bad enough let's pour salt and squeeze lemon juice in that wound and remind them that they were afflicted with such a disability. Not only that but to be endlessly taunted and teased was just plain mean. As each walker struggled to get up Ruby and Maddy fell upon them, sinking a blade into the back of each exposed skull, making quick work of the undead barbershop quartet that left both out of breath.

From the time AJ launched his surprise offensive to the time the final walker face-planted and went night-night took less than thirty seconds. And there stood our Little Hercules, proud as a peacock, slightly winded but feeling mighty invincible after his bold and decisive move. At least until the school marm grabbed him by the wrist, the chubby redhead too out of breath to express her opinion into words. Maddy held no such qualms as she halted in front of our pint-sized titan and leveled an unyielding glare as she addressed him tersely, “We'll not be doing that again!”

AJ now realized he did a bad. Or to put it more accurately: it was at that moment he realized – he fucked up. His shoulders sagged and looked at some object in the dirt between his tiny feet before meekly replying, “Sorry...”

Walking back to her rifle Maddy spotted something that made her forget the little duder's wild stunt. “Hmm. Fuck me. Poplar.” The tree she had hidden behind was a poplar, a tulip poplar to be precise. When it comes to trees this one is a veritable Swiss army knife of survival goodies containing such useful stuff as a source of that most precious of commodities – cordage material. The bark was also a source of fire tinder and held medicinal benefits which help alleviate cough, fever, diarrhea and even counteract the effects of dysentery.

“Hey, you two! Gimme a hand here, porcupine!”

Harvesting the precious bark wasn't all that dissimilar from stripping the protective covering off electrical wiring. Two cuts were made around the trunk at either end of the desired section, once a vertical cut was made down its breadth the bark was carefully and methodically separated from the trunk until the sleeve of bark came free. By the time Maddy finished nearly twenty feet of poplar bark had been harvested and the load distributed amongst them. AJ slipped a leaf from the tree into his pocket thinking it would made a neat addition to his ever increasing collection of trophies from his tenure at the school. The leaf was pretty cool looking as its shape resembled that of an yellowish-orange angel ornament one would find on a Christmas tree. Not that he had any idea what a Christmas tree was.

With hands now full it was high time to set a course for home. As they walked in silence AJ could feel the heat from Ruby's glare on the back of his head where it remained until they entered the gate and saw everyone in groups around the remaining cast of the Delta. Starbuck stood by the steps to the Admin demonstrating for Willy and Louis an array of traps and the types of triggers each employed. At the moment he was showing off a Paiute dead fall. This trap, when triggered, caused a large weight – a flat rock or a log – to crush the hapless prey. Remember back when Aasim's gym bag of bricks crushed Yonaton's cabeza like a cantaloupe? Same premise except no one had to be around to spring this one.

Vi and Aasim were cloistered by the lamppost with Josiah who was detailing the significance of the series of evenly spaced pegs embedded in the ground. His curiosity piqued, AJ went to investigate and inadvertently stepped on the same peg Ho-Jon placed hours earlier.

“Yo, watch it!” Josiah exclaimed.

“Sorry!”

Josiah shook his head at the irritant before continuing. “Yo, check it out.” Placing a stick along the line of pegs he pointed towards the peg AJ had stomped on. “That's West,” then turning and he pointed to the opposite end, “and that's East.” Taking another stick, placed perpendicular to the first, pointed one way then the other. “North and South. Hold your hand out like this.” Holding his hand parallel to the ground, thumb touching the palm like one preparing to unleash a karate chop he raised the hand from the horizon in increments. “Count up one, two, three – call it – three and a half hand widths. Figure ya got three, three and a half hours of daylight left. You go it, yo?” Heads nodded. Maddy excused herself and walked over to the picnic table where Linc and Zachariah were seated along with a myriad of green twigs, sticks and the discombobulated mass of homemade cordage Omar and Clem had been making in the mean time. Ho-Jon gladly took the bark from the poplar our trio had collected and began carefully started extracting the inner bark before soaking it in water to make the bark more pliant and make it therefore easier to refine into more manageable strands. Omar and our intrepid Clementine were at yet another picnic table busily weaving strands of honeysuckle together. As previously stated: you can never have enough. The chef looked up from his pile of honeysuckle and spotted AJ's approach before Clem, who was seated with her back turned.

“Hey, AJ.”

“Hiya, Chef.” AJ had taking a liking to addressing the teen as either Chef or Chef Omar which didn't seem to bother the adolescent none. As if on queue Clem looked up from her pile and spun around and he saw that smile we all know and love spread across her face.

“Hey there, Goofball. Have fun?”

Before the answer came forth the gentle squeeze he felt on the back of his neck was his cue to be remain silent as Ruby answered on behalf of the reckless youth. “Oh, we had ourselves a _swell_ time! Right, AJ?"

“Oh...uhh...yes, ma'am.” Came AJ's hesitant and rather sheepish remark. Clem raised an eyebrow at this uncharacteristic response but chose not to press the matter.

The day's outside work having drawn to a close all the Whos down in Whoville continued working like busy little bees in their respective fields for the remainder of the afternoon and on into the early evening. By the close of the day much headway had been made getting the school ship-shape but Starbuck warned this was but the beginning. Much was left to be done before Starbuck was satisfied regarding the school's state of readiness and his people shipped out.

Much of the same activities would be occurring again – just a different line up. Today would see Josiah, Ruby, Starbuck and Willy fetching water and wood but this time their ranks were supplemented with the addition of Lady G and Rosie. Lady G would help with the haul while Rosie would be back in the saddle – excuse the pun – providing security and getting some exercise since Clem still felt rotten forgetting about man's bestie. The two mammals still kept a wary eye and distance upon the other as of an uneasy alliance existed between them but neither felt the need to wholly trust the other.

AJ, Violet, Zachariah and Linc would spearfish what they could and set up the basket traps constructed the day before and build what are called fish weirs. But first let's see how those basket traps function.

Basket traps consist of three concentric rings of differing sizes, each ring beginning as a green branch slowly bent and coaxed into a circular shape and both ends then being lashed together. Once three were made the next stage was to lash a series of four foot saplings to each ring, upon completion the trap looked like a four foot long rib-cage in the shape of a funnel. The final component was made in similar fashion but on a smaller scale and consisting of only two rings and looked more like a basketball hoop. The other one was made just the same, the sole exception being that the rings came from the rings of the planter. Once tethered to lay below the waterline the trap's design allowed the unsuspecting fish to enter but since the trap's design tapered to a close at one end this prevented the fish from turning around. The smaller, basketball hoop-looking whatchamacallit, hickamahooger** or thingamabob's job was to keep the fish from backing out.

A weir is best described as a trap in the shape of a lower-case “m” with a narrow gap between the middle of the arches, the legs of the “m” extending to the shore. Both types of traps shared one aspect of functionality: both allowed fish, crayfish, even turtles in but afforded no avenue of escape but there the similarities ended. Whereas the basket trap's entrance was opened with the end tapering to a close, the opposite held true of the weir. Instead, it was the entrance that was narrow which, when the catch entered, was funneled into a large holding tank where they remained until someone came to collect the harvest.

For shits and giggles once they reached the shack they checked those traps but not surprisingly trapped diddly-squat. Gathering up the spears instead they journeyed along the creek which meandered out beyond the school, continuing out past the trapping grounds for several miles. As the group emerged into a small clearing Vi was the only one to recognize the location's significance and note the momentous occasion. She felt like she was about to walk on some foreign land not seen by human eyes for centuries. This slice of West Virginia real estate may once have been the site of atomic testing, indicative as to why no living person had set foot in this place in ages. Now it was as if some omnipotent deity had given the “All Clear” permitting people to again tread now that the residual radiation was at safe levels.

But nothing that exciting happens in West Virginia, just walkers. But this was no site of some cataclysmic atomic blast testing. No Hiroshima or Nagasaki. No Chernobyl. No Three Mile Island. There was no omnipotent deity there to give the go-ahead. Vi's reason for this peculiar way of feeling as she stepped onto this remote and exotic parcel of land was it had long been verboten – forbidden – for anyone from the school to venture here. A fact unbeknownst to the others, none of them being long time residents of the school like her. None perceived the import of where they now stood, just Vi. The tract of land which lay under their feet was the leading edge of the area which Marlon had so blithely labeled on the map “FUCKIN DON'T GO HERE” over a year and a half before. For only the second time since Clem and AJ's arrival had anyone dared take a stroll beyond the 'Safe Zone'.

Cue dramatic music.

_Fuck you, Marlon and double fuck you, Brody._

A quarter mile further the team stood along the banks of the mighty Ohio River, the tenth longest river in the 'ol U.S. of A. To AJ it looked just like the river Vi, Clem and himself had forded the night they mounted their daring rescue. Actually, it did look a lot like the river that night – except it was broad daylight, no walkers were around, no people with guns were shooting and no bullets were whizzing past their heads. But other than that it was the same river all right. Places take on a different look when one isn't surrounded by others who want you either dead or want you as the day's dinner special.

With both basket traps set it fell to Linc and AJ to build as many wooden weirs as they had materials for whilst Vi and Zachariah constructing a weir further upstream of massive proportions made of river rock and deadwood. The logic behind traps is always about one thing: bettering the odds. More traps equate better chances of catching game and with a population the size of the school by setting multiple traps meant fewer people were needed to actively seek game. With a series of traps set, capable of ensnaring a variety of game; large and small, food was being continuously gathered thereby freeing up the others to direct their energies elsewhere while the traps performed their magic and continued to do so even as they slept.

Prior to separating into their respective teams Linc, Zachariah and AJ removed their boots in anticipation to entering the chilly waters. Vi's obstinate nature precluded her from removing hers and instead opted to just roll up her pant legs. Linc warned of the folly of such a decision but when told to perform an anatomically impossible act he shrugged those massive shoulders knowing the blonde would come to regret not heeded his sage advice. The elders had the luxury of rolling up their pants legs AJ, meanwhile, was S.O.L.*** as the water came to his belly button so he decided to just remove his pants altogether. As Linc looked at the little tike, standing there in his jockey shorts and that Disco Broccoli sweatshirt of Tenn's he took pity and had AJ wade closer to shore and hand over the sharpened stakes as they worked. This way AJ could towel off and have some dry clothes to change back into. Satisfied that all was copacetic Zack and Vi set off upstream.

According to the game plan each wooden weir was meant to be roughly the size of your average dining room table, capable of holding a handful of fish at most. Its shape having already been detailed let's move on to the meat and potatoes of this section of our tale – with a quick aside to mention that the spacing between each stick was kept to a minimum to let the small fishies escape while retaining the future main course until reaching their ultimate destination. The dinner plate.

The stone weir Vi and Zachariah were left to contend with was shaped like a mushroom, the kind found in your local grocer. Not portabello, shiitake or any other of that nonsense. Just your average, plain-Jane fungi. A log, running perpendicular to the current, coerced the catch to enter the narrow opening to either side which flowed into the “cap” of the mushroom-like contrivance, or what is best described as a holding tank. Rock was the building material of choice with sticks filling in any resulting gaps. With more than enough river rock available the size of the weir was limited only to the amount of time and energy the duo felt like expending.

Construction of the third wooden weir had just begun when a shriek split the air, followed by a splash. Linc and AJ looked up just in time to catch sight of Zachariah pulling a blonde Lady of the Lake out of the water which caused the giant and the squirt to burst out in hearty laughter. Zack and Vi were maneuvering the log into position when Vi slipped on an underwater rock and did an impromptu swan dive. F-bombs flowed forth as Vi, now resembling a drowned rat, made her way to dry land, her boots squishing with each step. Serves her right for ignoring Linc. Zachariah's shrill whistle hearkened to Linc and AJ who grabbed their gear and came hither but still unable to stifle their laughter.

By the time both arrived they found the older man engaged in a no-win situation with the sopping wet blonde who looked both pissed and absolutely miserable and made sure everyone within earshot was privy of the fact. The situation was made none the better as Linc got closer and burst into renewed laughter as Vi's arms were seen flailing about in anger and water flying off in all directions and water dripping off her nose. During all this Zachariah and AJ did their best to silence Linc and Violet, respectively, before walkers showed up to crash the party.

At the time Violet went for her unscheduled dip in the pool the temperature was hovering in the high forties with the water being a few degrees warmer. Still, by the time they finished and made it back to the school it would be near freezing and Vi would be a five foot three Popsicle. They had to get a fire going.

Stat.

As Linc and AJ went to get a fire going Zachariah found himself in a most unenviable position of telling Violet what must come next: to get out of those soaked clothes and dry off. You can well imagine how well that went.

“Look,” Zachariah began, standing on the precipice of losing his shit like his boss, “shut yer _fucking_ yap and dry out or I swear to the Almighty I'll personally chuck you back in! I don't got _TIME_ for this Mickey Mouse _bull_shit!”

When Violet called his bluff Zachariah felt compelled to throw up his hands in defeat, wondering what on Earth his boss saw in the broad and didn't really want to carry the irate bitch back into the water – tempting though it may be. If he didn't flip his lid he most certainly would on account of that incessant, hyena-like cackling of Linc's and would make the man pay for it if only he didn't stand a full head taller than Starbuck's XO****. Thankfully for all AJ was there, the only one able to sooth the ruffled feathers – well, perhaps that's not be the best word choice. Anywho, eventually Vi settled down some but this had more to do from the effects of the cold sinking in than from AJ's efforts. With a fire going Zachariah offered Vi his overcoat to wear while her clothes dried and Linc handed over the blanket he carried. As she hid behind a tree for some privacy both Delta members went back to complete their mission. When she emerged, now decked out in Zack's itchy overcoat and swaddled in Linc's blanket, she sat down before the fire. AJ, always the loyal and dependable friend, dutifully wrung out each soaked article of clothing before placing them next to the fire to dry. He assured his friend that all would be well and that he would stand guard and be on the look out for monsters. Poor Vi mumbled a half-hearted thanks as she sat there all bundled up, leaning against the tree and she looked up skyward and wordlessly cursed everyone and everything under the sun.

_Fuck this shit..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Leporidae-scientific name for rabbit  
**hickamahooger-just another name for a thingamabob. First heard the word used by an High School friend of mine  
***S.O.L.-Shit Outta Luck  
****XO-Executive Officer, Second In Command


	14. Continuations (Reprise)

“Hey, Hiawatha. What's he bitching about?” Ho-Jon inquired having just witnessed Lou pouting about something for the umpteenth time.

“Hmph. _That's_ his specialty.” Aasim answered. 

_Excuse you! I have many positive attributes._

“Louis, cut the shit! I swear you're the biggest fucking brat I know!” Lou smiled and spread his arms as if asking for a hug before the smile faded.

_Explain _WHY _I have to leave my jacket! It's cold out! Need I remind you winter _IS _just around the corner?_

Lou's animated movements was enough to clue Ho-Jon in that having him leave his coat back home hadn't been at all well received. “The way that god-awful thing flaps it can snag on damn near anything under the sun. If we're gona track God's little critters we gotta travel light and quiet. If we bump into walkers ya don't wana give 'em anything to grab a hold of.” As an after thought he added, “If I had my way I'd lop those dreads too.”

Lou's mouth dropped.

“C'mon, Buttercup. Put on your big boy pants and let's get rollin'. Daylight's burnin'.”

_Nope. I'm staying right here._

“Really? Stay and have a Girls Night, I suppose? Maybe you girls can paint each others fingernails?” Ho-Jon remarked, not able to resist the urge to taunt.

“Seriously doubt anyone will finger paint or play Patty-cake with you. Not even AJ would stoop that low so you might as well come with.” Aasim added with a savage jab of his own. He relished the glare cast in his direction by his fellow bunkee.  
  
Begrudgingly he back to Room 454 where he folded up his leather jacket. A blast of cold, November air sent a shiver down his spine the moment he took off the coat, causing goose pimples to break out. After these many years of continuously wearing the article of clothing it had become almost an extension of his body. As time progressed his body morphed to the leather until they became one and now rarely, if ever, got hot in it. Come summer there were obviously some days wearing leather was ill advised. But it's now November, Louis. This was bound to be a rough day. It was time to embrace the suck. 

Gazing once more at the coat as it lay lovingly folded upon his bed Lou shivered once more and rolled down the sleeves of his green shirt and buttoned both buttons. Clad only his pants and shirtsleeves he felt he might as well go naked. That may thrill the girls but may cause the others to never be satisfied by another man again. Exhaling in disgust at the injustice of the world he turned and grabbed hold of 'Chairles' and made his way outside where the others waited impatiently for him to unfuck himself. 

“That's a good boy! Keep it up and I'll give you a wowwi-pop!” The Asian said in condescending and mocking voice normally reserved for a toddler. Aasim found it most refreshing to see someone giving Lou a taste of his own medicine after all the years of dishing it out to others, especially Aasim, and never being on the receiving end. Lou just flipped Ho-Jon the bird and skulked off in the direction of the gates.

But that was all earlier and they were now miles from the school and with their fifth Paiute deadfall set and the second of their two squirrel traps now set they marched on. By and large the only modifications to Lou's traps were cutting a longer sapling and instead of only one snare, as per Lou's design, the newest reiteration had snares circled around the length of the sapling every foot or so as it leaned against the tree at an angle. As long as their quarry continued forward it would be forced to run the gauntlet of snares. See? All about bettering them odds.

Rubbing his forearms to get the blood and warmth flowing into his chilled extremities once more the other thing that remained constant – besides Louis' crying – was Aasim's and Ho-Jon's indifference to his perceived plight. Even Ho-Jon came to realize over time that Lou was, at times, a Grade A pain in the ass.

“We come across a group of lurkers I'll show off my blanket trick. Then we'll have ourselves some real fun!”

“So covering a bed sheet with walker blood works instead of smearing it on your body?”

“Sill here ain't I?” He said with a sly smile. “Been using that little ruse for years. Walked many a mile with this here blanket.” Patting the blanket now tied across his chest. “This thing is so used and abused it used to be nearly twice this size and baby blue when I first found it. Another advantage is you don't gotta wash your clothes much later.”

_Well count me out. Either of you have ANY idea how hard blood stains are to get out?_

Ho-Jon's patience wore thin and stopping suddenly, spun around and pointed with four fingers at Lou's chest to accentuate his point. “Listen here, guy. Find yourself with the fucking herd heading your way with nothing but a blanket to save your ass blood stains are gona the _least_ of your problems so watch and learn.” His diatribe over he turned and moved on in silence.

“Lou – I know you can't talk and all but – please shut up.” That headache began to creep back and as if the man-child's pissing and moaning wasn't bad enough Aasim's finger still throbbed having smashed it with a ten pound rock while setting the fourth Paiute trap. By the looks of it no doubt he'd lose the finger nail in time.

“Look at it this way,” Ho-Jon began, “didn't your friends dance with the dead to rescue you both from the _Fitz_? If AJ can do it so you can. So grow a pair. That or you can wear walker skin like your Whisperer friend.”

_Wouldn't know._

“Come again?”

“We never met. Me, Louis or Omar, that is. The others did.”

“Really?” 

_I kinda saw him. Once._

That was an understatement. Lou, if you'll recall, came within a hair of shooting James as he walked alongside Clem as she carried a wounded AJ back to the school. By the narrowest of margins James didn't become a pin cushion that day. Does explain why he preferred the company of walkers over that of the living. Perhaps 'ol Lou did it in a fit of jealousy seeing his woman walking with another man – well – oh, never mind.

“Clem and AJ met him first before the others just the night they came for us from what I was told. What I want to know is how'd you get past Rosie?”

This revelation regarding the late-Whisperer struck Ho as strange but found it inconsequential and shrugged it off. “Kinda watched from the trees and monitored her movements and watched the areas she gravitated towards then avoided them during my nighttime visits inside. Probably caught my scent but mistook it for a lurker, lucky for yours truly. At least that's my guess.”

Hours passed with Ho-Jon stopping periodically to point out the signs of an animal's passing whether tracks, trampled vegetation where an mammal slept, pointing out the nests of various animals and birds and even animal scat – a fancy word for shit. Yes, that's a thing.  
  
Feeling he had taught the two miscreants all he could they turned homeward bound. Aasim looked promising as a potential scout and tracker given time but Louis seemed to have the attention span of a Lima bean and reminded him of a kid in Little League that's more interested picking the flowers in the outfield. It had been originally hoped some walkers would show so they could get some experience dancing with walkers but nary a walker seemed to want to come and play. As it stood only Clem, AJ and Vi were the ones with any practice to speak of. To be able to walk amongst the undead and not lose ones shit would be a most valuable asset for all to learn.

Back at the Casbah they learned Starbuck and Josiah had left; both having been slated for hunting while Zachariah, Willy and Ruby left to try their luck spearfishing. Louis wanted to check his old traps with Rosie but Ho-Jon wanted to get a wood detail together and protested that two people and the Delta's loyal steed were woefully insufficient to mount such a venture. Maddy countered by pointing out that Vi and AJ had just arrived from setting the fish traps and were half frozen as Linc regaled the Asian with the details of Vi's polar plunge. Maddy suggested that Lou and Rosie hook up with them once finished. Adding one person and a canine to their roster was hardly an improvement in Ho's mind until Clem asked Omar to tag along in Vi and AJ's stead. With all the fun occurring outdoors the chef had long grown tired of seeing nothing but the teams come and go while he and Clem were left to wattle away the hours spinning yards of that confounded rope until that was all he saw when he closed his eyes.

Left with only Clem, AJ, Linc and Vi at the school Linc noticed the occasional shiver of both the blonde and the little one and said he'd get a fire going, suggesting they move the show indoors as the sun was beginning to set. Picking up as much honeysuckle and poplar bark he could carry he waltzed indoors and returned twenty minutes later to tell them the fire was ready. Vi and AJ wordlessly left, both eager to bask in the warm glow of the fire after a bitterly cold and wet day. Clem began to rise to her feet – sorry – _foot_ when Linc stopped her.

“Nuh uh, 'lil missey. Ah'll carries yah.”

Cue that signature steely-eyed glare. “Like hell you will.” One thing she despised above all else was being coddled to or being granted any form of preferential treatment due to her disability. Part not wanting to be a burden upon the others and part not wanting to be perceived as being 'special' or viewed differently by any of her friends. 

“Now youse stow away dat pride now. B'sides, youse lookin' outta steam 'bout now.”

Which was true. Energy-wise she was running on near empty, her afternoon nap doing little to revitalize her. And so, for the second time that week – technically the third time if you include since all this hubbub started – our darling Clementine allowed herself to be carried, first by Stanley/Starbuck, then Louis and now by the largest member of the Delta. Flushed with embarrassment and a not so tiny smidgen of that feeling of inadequacy returned as she was carried like a laundry basket. The only solace to be found was that none of the others, AJ in particular, were around to witness the act of being carried by a member of the Delta, albeit willingly. She thanked her lucky stars there were no witnesses that day when she was unceremoniously carried over Stanley's shoulder back in those early days. 

Linc carried our Warrior Princess into the Admin building and having reached the hallway leading to the music room where he set her down to continue the rest of the way under her own steam. Inside, Clem found both of her compatriots luxuriating before the the fire and took a seat between the two and began weaving more cordage as Vi rotated her boots so a different side faced the flames. On the pretense that there still remained work to be done Linc excused himself and left to go work on two items on his Honey-do List: a rope ladder and a smoke tent. 

Please allow your humble narrator, dear reader, to explain the ladder before we tackle the smoke tent. 

The rope ladder was to replace the knotted rope Aasim installed to the Northwest corner of the school back when the herd surrounded the school, the same one Ho-Jon used to infiltrate the school under the noses of the student body and Rosie before Clem et al and the New Age Delta struck their peace deal. Instead of a solitary length of rope with some simple knots for hand holds you would see in gym class its replacement would be a full-blown ladder, rungs included. A basic rope ladder would be more beneficial for this application than an all wooden one as we shall soon see.

The rungs started as a two inch sapling chopped into foot and a half long sections. Eleven having been cut Linc next measured out seventy feet of blue and red nylon rope and having found the mid-point, cut it into two, thirty-five foot lengths. Nylon rope works best since nylon won't fade or mildew when exposed to the elements but, more importantly, won't fray like manila would. The ladder began by tying both strands securely with a double overhand knot to form what would be the bottom of the ladder followed by attaching the each rung, an inch or so from the end, to the rope by tying a knot called the marlinespike hitch – a knot which gives the type ladder its name. A marlinespike ladder. The knot itself wasn't a very strong knot in that it works best when supporting a load like an object or person so before tying each knot Linc whittled a shallow grove around the end of each rung for additional purchase form each knot to prevent slippage. After a few final minutes spent tweaking the finished product to ensure that each rung was more or less level and with each hitch tied as tight as possible, he finished with a fanciful loop at the top.

Now to get the ladder topside.

Lashing the completed ladder to the old rope he grabbed hold of the rope and effortlessly shimmied up the wall where he obtained a previously unseen view of the school, the grounds and the hostile expanse beyond. With the wall scarcely two feet wide Linc found himself forced to be cognizant of each move he made as large swaths of the wall still contained barb wire installed in anticipation of Lilly's appearance. Unhooking the pair of wooden toggles Ho-Jon installed at each end of wire he snipped prior to his first soiree into the school Linc parted the ends in order to create a larger work area for his massive frame and hauled up the ladder via the rope. With ladder in hand the loop was placed around a piece of exposed re-bar atop the wall and was now ready for use.

With the ladder mounted to the middle of the wall one need only to climb up, pull up the ladder behind them, lower it, then toss the rope to someone waiting inside who would pull the ladder in. Upon returning the rope would be cast over the wall, the ladder hauled in. So long as the attached rope remained where one could reach it, moving the ladder could be accomplished with only one person. See? Easy-peasy, nice and sleazy. 

Satisfied with this latest creation he next set his sights on constructing yet another tripod, this one the basis for what would become a smoking tent. After digging a shallow fire pit which the tripod was placed over six branches, in two tiers of three, were lashed to each leg. Each branch connected two legs together adding structural integrity butt also provided a convenient place to drape meat to be smoked, or more accurately, dried. The meat from small game would be cut into thin strips while fish would be partially filleted but still joined at the tail from which to suspend the fish. With the meat in place a small fire would be lit and one of the spare blankets from Ms. Martin's office wrapped around the tripod to retain the smoke within. 

The premise behind smoking meat is on par with making barbecue – low and slow. Low temperature heat and semi-cooking over a long period of time. Instead of cooking exclusively smoking meat draws out much of the meat's moisture, thereby preserving it. As the cooking went on the meat was periodically flipped and more wood added as necessary to keep the smoke and heat going but not enough for a raging inferno or any some such. The end product was something resembling jerky which extended the meat's shelf life and would become incredibly useful come winter since any game that was gathered would not need to be immediately cooked before it spoiled. Not only this but by smoking meat more of their wood could be allocated for warmth than for cooking.

Linc was nearly finished lashing the last branch into place when he caught Starbuck and Josiah rapidly approaching out of the corner of one eye – the Big Kahuna looking none too pleased. Linc reckoned it had something to do with the fact that he was the only soul outdoors while the others were MIA. 

He spoke, anticipating the up and coming line of inquiry. “Dey all inside by da fire. Dey all cold – ” The Delta leader cut off the subordinate's answer with a scowl and a raised finger.

“Why. Not where, Lincoln. Why?”

“Dey warmin' up is all.”

“Warming up?” He asked, his mood souring as each second ticked by.

“Oh yes, mastah. Like ah said, dey's all cold and – ”.

“Dammit, Linc, ”Starbuck snapped. “cut it with the 'mastah' shit! I'm no slave owner. Where – are they?”

“Over there, _SUH_!” He barked, adding a snappy salute with one hand for dramatic effect while pointing to the Admin with the other. 

“Truly hate you people sometimes. Hope you know that.” Linc merely shined that goofy grin, exposing that missing front tooth but remained silent. The boss shook his head before turning his attention towards the Admin building and skulked off, and leaving Josiah and Linc outdoors and once indoors, followed the unmistakable sounds of the triumvirate engaged in idle chit chat inside the music room.

Upon entering he was greeted with the sight of the three sitting before the fire casually weaving tulip bark as they chatted. What vexed him was not that they were working indoors but more because Vi and AJ were not with their assigned work groups. Much planning and careful study had gone into hashing out these work assignments, ensuring each person was competent and knew the skills which the Delta had utilized to eek out an existence in the Land of the Mostly Dead. What really got his goat was when people or something threw a monkey wrench in his carefully laid plans whether it be people doing whatever they damn well pleased or some unforeseen force or bad juju fucked with 'his machine', as he liked to call it – his system. If one person breaks down the machine breaks down – he couldn't allow that. If permitted to happen then people are put at risk and people can – and have, died. True, he had driven everyone hard these last few days but as George Patton put it, 'A pint of sweat saves a gallon of blood.' Clem's people, in particular, felt they had been made to work harder than ever before – even harder than either Marlon or Clem had, in their opinion – but Starbuck nonetheless pushed himself the hardest whether alongside his people or in conjunction with Clem's. 

“I have many questions. Not the least of which is why you two,” referring to Vi and AJ, “are indoors with Clementine.” Looking around he now noted the chef's absence. “And where the fuck is Omar?”

“Swear.” 

Clem and AJ turned while Vi ignored the question, choosing the moment instead to rotate her boots before continuing to weave. 

Being unable to be mad at the youth his features softened and placed a hand over his heart. “A thousand pardons. The question stands.”

“They were freezing when they came back and Ho-Jon wanted people for wood so I asked Omar to go instead.”

“I see. All traps built and set, AJ?”

“Yep. Vi fell in the water though.” 

“Thanks, AJ.” Vi said sarcastically.

“Well you did. I – ”. Starbuck stopped AJ before the little dude dug himself a hole he couldn't climb out of. Best leave that to Louis.

“It's ok. Clem's in charge of you guys. Only trying to help here. So long as everyone's busy that's fine. If I may impose, Violet? Take out the laces and open up your boots. They'll dry quicker.”

“Thanks.” Not much of an enthusiastic reply but being the least flippant remark he had received that in and of itself was a win in his book. Neither had said much of anything to the other since their little confrontation earlier in the week. Starbuck had made an effort to have the two of them work together as little as possible to keep the peace. Even when they inevitably worked together he walked on eggshells around her and kept all conversation solely business. No jokes. No jocularity. Be that as it may he couldn't help but feel pity for his right hand man and shuddered at thought of amount of vitriol Zachariah endured as Vi emerged from the water.

_No, thank you. Been there, done that._

“How many weirs did you guys get done?”

“Me and Linc made three wood ones and Vi and the other guy made a great, big one outta rocks.” Starbuck couldn't help but smile despite himself, impressed with the progress the team had made as well as the professionalism and seriousness AJ had shown these last few days. Lou on the other hand...

“Linc and I.” He corrected. “Any deadites?”

“Nope. No monsters.” Surprising given Vi's little incident. 

“Ah, Wunderbar!”

“Huh?”

“It's German. Means 'wonderful'.

“Wondered what that meant. You said that the day you came out.”

Starbuck took offense at the remark wondering if she knew the connotation behind the phrase. Seeing not so much as a smile he figured not so let the unintended slight pass. “I prefer my 'unveiling'. Had to take a foreign language to graduate high school and took four years of German. You primates are lucky not being forced to learn one. Latin's dead, German is semi-useful, Spanish is boring and French is abysmal.”

“What're those? German, Spanish, Latin – French?” 

“They're languages, kiddo. Different ways people talk. We speak English because –”. The language lesson ground to a halt as Vi, sick of all the gay banter not to mention being stuck in the same room with her least favorite person on Earth, stood and tried on a boot. Inserting a foot and feeling her sock grow wet a groan from the back her throat emerged and chucked it across the room.

Both cried out after their friend as she stormed off but to no avail. AJ rose to his feet but stopped as Starbuck held up a hand. All watched as Violet turned the corner and exited stage left, barefoot. 

“Best let her be, little one. Been a lousy day for her, I bet.” Turning, he faced the little dude. “Why don't you get Clementine settled in for the night? Tomorrow's another busy day.”

Clementine's shoulders sagged and her face fell at not being unable to help her bestie. “Sounds like a plan. I'm whipped. If I look at anymore of this stuff I'll go cross-eyed.” Helping her up and tucking the crutches under her armpits AJ escorted his maternal figure out of the music room and got her situated in bed before heading outside to help the wood party who had by then arrived. 

With the room now to himself Starbuck glanced over at the neglected boot on the floor and crossed the room and picked it up and wrinkling his nose as the fetid funk assaulted his olfactory receptors – not like his smelled like a bed of roses either. The exterior of the boot appeared dry but placing a hand inside dampness remained up near the toes. The duct tape's ends had begun to curl away as well and it wouldn't be long before more tape and bedding would be needed. He chuckled at the memory of having made the mistake of believing his uncle when he said that a lot of ducks went into the making of a single roll of duct tape. He briefly toyed with idea of pulling the same gag on AJ to see if he was just as gullible but figured Clem would rightly slap him for the innocent dupe. Maybe, maybe not. That or the myth he was told that if you swallow a watermelon seed that it would grow inside your stomach. Then again – it was doubtful he even knew what one was.

Laying the other boot on its side to dry he gave the other a once over and waited for that quintessential 'eureka' moment to come. After removing the MacGyver fix he discovered the boot had fallen upon hard times and had been around the block once or twice. The tongue – or what was left of it – barely clung on and most of the eyelets dangled in space or were missing entirely. Taking knife in hand he removed the top four inches of boot before pondering where to go from there before he recalled the collection chairs out in the hall. Cutting off large strips of leather he took some honeysuckle left to soak and squeegeed off the excess water between his fingers and retrieved his second most prized possession – the first being his SIG – a three inch upholstery needle tucked away in a fold within the knife's sheath.

After many a failed attempt and liberal usage of curse words enough to make a nun blush the needle was at last threaded and commenced to sew the layers of leather into one. With the layers now sewn together it formed a relatively firm, yet still flexible, sheet of leather to provide structure and a little bit of waterproofing. New eyelets were formed by use of a nail before mating old and new pieces into one. Laces were made of poplar as it was better suited for heavier duty applications. By now his exertions over the last couple of days began to take its toll and allowed himself to get lazy when it came to making laces, opting instead to make a single lace for each set of eyelets instead of one continuous shoelace.

It seemed a pity no camera was around to record this thing of beauty or not so much as a writing utensil. Okay, in actuality it looked like the bastard child between boots and galoshes to make notes or drawings for future reference. He could use this someday, perhaps retire someday and go into business for himself. Okay, so it looked more like the love child between a pair of boots and galoshes or some prop from Boris Karloff's Frankenstein. Function over fashion. Satisfied, he walked to Room 417 but just as he was about to knock decided against it believing that would like asking Jeffrey Dahmer to bring a side dish for Thanksgiving dinner. Like it would matter if his peace offering were her boots, a kitten or even chicken nuggets? He must resign himself to the fact that no matter what he just couldn't win with this chick. The safer alternative was to leave both boots in front of the door and leave to join the others outside which he did.

Vi tried to sleep but the nineteen year old's troubled mind refused to give her a moment's peace as she tossed and turned before ultimately giving up on the idea of sleep. Either that or because her feet were freezing. Not only was her mind racing but her feet were freezing. Rising from her bed she shrieked out as having taken but one step into the darkened hallway felt a foot make contact with some hidden object while realizing, simultaneously, that gravity still works it magic as the blonde nearly took a header. 

“What the _actual_ _fuck_?!” Her voice boomed down the hall. Raising herself from the cool, hardwood floor she desperately wanted to know what the hell nearly caused her to break her neck. Heh. Wouldn't that be some shit? Imagine how that conversation would go:

St. Peter: “And how did you die?”

Violet: “Oh, well, you know. I tripped on something outside my _fucking_ door in the middle of the _fucking_ night so here I _fucking _am.” Let's all hope Vi won't drop an F-bomb in front of a saint many many years from now when she stands before the Pearly Gates on her day of judgment. 

Picking herself from the cold, hard hardwood floor she searched for the cause of her near death experience and found that it was a pair boots she had trod on. _Her_ boots. Picking the once 'ugly duckling' boot she stood mesmerized at the care and the attention to detail which went into the repair work. By no means was it pretty there was no denying who was responsible.

“Son of a bitch.” 

Outside Room 417, if you listened carefully, the sound of ice cracking was heard.  
  
The routine on the fourth day held the same as the preceding ones: You, you and you – do this. You, you, you and you – do that. However, on this day, prior to Violet leaving to check the new and old terrestrial traps with Aasim and Josiah she first seeked an audience with Starbuck before he left himself. Seeing her approach and rubbing the back of her neck he took that as a sign that she was undecided as to what to say and uncomfortable so he spared her the awkward trouble.

“How does it fit?”

“Uhh. Okay, I guess. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” For once he found himself at a loss of words. Wasn't everyday that some smart aleck remark failed to pass his lips. Perhaps he was, so he feared, beginning to lose that magic touch in his old age. Try as he might to think of something off the cuff or clever he just couldn't and didn't want to upset this brief, albeit uneasy, peace. “Be careful out there.”

“Yeah. You too.” And with that, a little more ice cracked as all went their merry ways.

Near midday they reassembled and the lineup was once more switched up. Aasim found himself tagging along with Starbuck and Maddy who sauntered off to see if the aquatic traps paid dividends and what they found failed to disappoint and even exceeded their wildest expectations.

Inside the weirs were fourteen brook trout and striped bass and in one basket trap was the ugliest fish Aasim had ever laid eyes on. A pike. With both basket traps set in a different location and the fish put out of its collective misery and they were placed into the buckets the team carried. To carry the catch a sapling was placed through the bucket's handles, Aasim took one end while Maddy grabbed the other and hefted the load onto their shoulders as Starbuck acted as lookout for any undead visitors. 

The three found themselves in high spirits given their latest success and allowed themselves some small talk about something rarely discussed in this Age of Walkers. Sports.

“My dad didn't know dick about fixing cars but he was a total gearhead when it came to racing. Especially NASCAR. Took me to Daytona back in Nineteen Ninety and saw Derricke Cope win the first race of the Winston Cup Series. The race itself was badass but the tailgating before and after was where the real fun was. Ended up with my worst hangover ever that day. That's what happens when you spend the day drinking nothing but shitty Busch.”

“Soccer was my thing for years until my parents split. Played center-back. Number forty four most of the time. After that spent my time setting shit on fire. After I set my mom's new boyfriend's garage on fire got myself shipped to the school.”

Maddy couldn't help but roll her eyes. “Boooor-ring! Car racing: watching grown men make left hand turns all fuckin' day. Soccer? Sorry, kid. But watching people chasin' a ball for ninety minutes ain't my thing. Only interesting shit is when there's a pileup or fans stampede.”

“Rather morbid.” Aasim duly noted.

Undeterred she shrugged under the load. “Hey, it's the truth. Not unheard of having dozens of spectators trampled to death somewheres in Europe or South America.” She paused in her rant to shift the sapling onto the opposite shoulder. “Some shouldn't even be considered sports. Take swimming, for example. Swimming ain't a sport. Swimming is a way to keep from drowning.”

“Has nothing to do with the fact that you can't swim, eh?” Starbuck teased. Maddy turned about to protest when some sound off in the distance nabbed Aasim's attention who came to an abrupt halt which nearly sent Maddy crashing to earth.

“The fuck are you – ”

“_SHHH!_ _Quiet!_ Something's coming!”

“Bug out!” Buckets clattered to the ground, spilling their contents as the team scurried in an attempt to make themselves scarce. Each went their own way. Aasim up a tree, Starbuck behind a knee-high boulder as Maddy hid behind a convenient tree stump. Both rifles were aimed in the noise's direction and Aasim hugged the tree, desperate to make himself as small as possible. A cold, dead weight dropped into the pit of each stomach as the sound drew closer. As it approached the sound became that of a horse and a wave of relief washed over Maddy and Starbuck as Zachariah, atop Lady G popped into view scarcely a hundred feet away. Having spotted the fish and the buckets scattered haphazardly on the ground Zachariah clasped both hands together and let out a Popeye whistle – his way of identifying himself to his fellow Delta members. Starbuck then gave his call sign – a squirrel's bark.

From the size of the man's eyes and the determined look on his face alone you could tell he brought ill tidings. It was a rare occasion that anyone rode Lady G at a full gallop unless some serious shit had happened.

Zachariah hopped down as the rest assembled on the man and Aasim slid down from his perch.

“Whatcha got, Zack?”

“Josiah heard a gunshot. Twenty, twenty five minutes ago, give or take.”

“What direction?”

“Southeast. That'll be Ho-Jon.”

“We gona look for 'em?” Maddy asked.

Zack nodded. “That's Linc vote. Josiah too. The others want to go as well.”

Starbuck nixed that idea a nanosecond after the sentence ended. “Not happening.”

“Those are my friends are out their!” Aasim angrily protested, having overheard the discussion as he neared.

“I know, Aasim. But I'm afraid it's non negotiable. If it's that community we need more than bows and arrows and stout hearts. Plus, I need people to hold down the school.”

“Like fucking hell we will! You got no fucking right telling use what to do!”

But now was really not the time to argue. “Use yer head, kid.” Maddy said, in an effort to reason with the belligerent adult. “Want to leave Clem by herself? AJ? This is bad. Really bad.” 

“I know. Ho-Jon's too smart for a negligent discharge so if he fires it's for a reason.” Now pivoting to face Zachariah. “Who's with him?”

“Willy and Vi.”

Starbuck's eyes bulged out and exploded. “_WILLY?!_ Louis is supposed to be out there! That damn, _stupid_ prick! Trade me!” Trading the M1 for Zachariah's AK he mounted Lady G. “Expect the best, plan on the worst. Ditch the pole, grab the buckets then fall back to the school. Button down the gates and lock 'n load. You both got your orders. The same goes for you too, Aasim.” With that he took off post haste before Aasim had a chance to argue further. 

After a most unpleasant, not to mention bumpy, ride he arrived in time to see the school clearly in an uproar. No doubt Linc and Josiah were embroiled in a fight against the collective rage of the -ex pupils, all of whom desiring to help their friends in productive way. Not that he could blame them. Seeing Starbuck approach all everyone with two legs hoofed it demanding to be included in the search for their missing compadres. Even with his mind running a million miles an hour and with so many moving pieces and unknown variables working independently from the one another he knew from experience it was imperative to remain calm and devise Plan A, B. Drawing up a Plan C and D wouldn't hurt either. The possibility that the hunting party had crossed paths with those barbarians was not out of the realm of possibility. He admired their pluck and eagerness for a fight which may be in the offing but a steely resolve won't hold up long against firearms. 

There would be no herd to provide them cover this time around.

“Where's Aasim?” Ruby implored, the mother hen's face full of concern and ashen. The looks on the others was a mixture of frustration and showed a degree of extreme loathing not seen since the Delta's grand entrance having anyone would dare stand in their way to help their friends.

“With Maddy and Zack making all possible speed. And no. You're not going.” He hoped his next words would cut off all further protests. “Not one of you. Look – I gave you a snippet of what these pukes are capable of. I know Ho-Jon and he'll beat feet back here with the others. That I promise you. Until then keep out of sight but stay vigilant and arm yourselves in case shit hits the fan. Have Rosie patrol the back courtyard in case they try to come that way.”

_So you expect us to fucking to just _SIT _here with our thumbs up our ass!_

“Who the fuck are you to order us around, huh? They know how to fight, remember?” Clem said, moving as fast as possible on her crutches. That tic crept back into Starbuck's face and gritted his teeth as the arguing went back and forth but continued to hold firm. 

“_No_. This is no rinky-dink band of Girl Scouts we're talking about here. You forget Ho-Jon is out there as well. One of my people. Further, Louis – ” pointing an accusatory finger at the mute, “need I remind you that you're not even supposed to be here!” He snapped. If he thought this would make Louis balk he didn't know Lou that well.  
  
_So? What's your point?_

“All right. Everyone cool it.” Clem pleaded. “Like it or not, Starbuck, you're going to need all the help you can. You can't expect us to just sit here and wait.”

Starbuck remained adamant. “You've been granted autonomy over your people up til now but this is where I draw a line in the sand. Right here, right now. The others know what to do and will be back within the hour and it'll be faster if its just three of us. I know I'm asking the impossible but we have all have a stake in this. Either we hang together or we hang separately.”

_Uh, English please?_

“He means we have to work together, Lou.” It didn't sit well with Clem in any way, shape or form but what other options were left? The clock was ticking and time was of the essence. “Fine. Just – bring them back. All of them.” 

No point in in stating the obvious so he turned and took off like a rocket with Linc and Josiah in tow. Exiting the gates they tore off in the direction of the reported gunshot. Since Josiah was the one to hear the gunshot he took point while the others followed. Once they covered a klick they slowed and fanned out fifty feet apart from one another in order to remain within visual range and hailing distance; Josiah taking the left flank, Linc on the right and Starbuck up the middle. With safeties off and game faces set three sets of eyes and ears methodically scanned the surrounding forest for the any indications of danger or any trace of the missing team.

If this was indeed the vanguard of that community it could spell disaster. Clem and AJ's chance encounter with Lilly and Abel allowed for fair warning that an attack was imminent on the school. There would be no such repeat performance this time. There would be no time to throw up defenses, no more barb wire was left to be strung, no bomb making supplies remained. These disadvantages were offset, somewhat, by the presence of the Delta but one of them – along with Vi and AJ – were still out there. While the school was better off than it had been a week earlier it was by no means was it capable of repelling yet another full scale assault from a determined enemy. 

Had this happened near Woodsfield the patrol would have been four times this size but given the current set of circumstances that was out of the question. They just didn't have enough bodies to post the necessary number of lookouts to effectively cover all three hundred and sixty degrees of perimeter wall. Even if they had with sufficient lookouts given the amount of much foliage and trees surrounding the school by the time an invading force was detected they would already be within striking distance. All that was left was to make do with what they had. Jack and shit. 

And Jack just left town.

A mile and a half later, after what had felt an eternity but was only an hour, nothing of friend or foe was seen. As they stalked noiselessly through the woods Starbuck periodically stopped to snap a few inches of a branch or bush at eye level as a subtle reminder to show their path of egress in the event they had to get out of Dodge. The break need only be large enough to catch his eye but hopefully not enough to grab the attention of any pursuing parties. It was a gamble but without the aid of a compass it was the best that could be done.

The cawing of a crow made Starbuck and Linc stop dead in their tracks as both knew the call's significance: Josiah spotted something. He felt his heart sink and both quickened their pace as they flocked to where the youngest Delta member stood and looked where he pointed. To Starbuck's immeasurable relief a scant hundred yards away was the missing team, seemingly none the worse for wear. Their path of travel the missing team was on would bring them relatively close and they sprinted off to intercept until Violet and Willy noticed their approach and waved. Mysteriously, Ho-Jon failed to acknowledge his compatriots and looked – well, _bigger_ – particularly in the shoulder area. From such a distance it was difficult to ascertain why and Starbuck feared his lead scout had been injured until upon closer inspection the scout was not injured but was instead carrying something upon those slender shoulders. Something big and brown that swayed side to side with each step as he struggled to under some heavy weight. 

A deer.

Once within spitting distance did Ho-Jon meekly raise a hand by way of greetings, beads of sweat seen pouring from his brow due to the weight of such a heavy load. While the Big Cheese was thankful the trio were safe and sound he could brain the little Oriental douche canoe. While Vi and Willy looked pleased as punch the opposite was true of the team's leader whose face betrayed a mixture of relief and trepidation as the others neared. The fact that Willy held a rifle in his hands didn't help matters.

“Told ya he'd be fucking pissed.” Vi commented noting the look on Starbuck's mug.

“Doe ain't in season, Ho. Youse lucky der ain't no Game Warden 'round here.”

“Believe me,” Starbuck said through gritted teeth, “I'm thinking of a dozen words exponentially stronger than just 'pissed'. Lincoln, kindly relieve William of that firearm.” Willy acquiesced. “Holy fuck, Ho-Jon. Care to explain what possessed you to take a shot at a fucking _deer_?! Those assholes could be out and about!”

“He's right, yo. If I heard that shot means every fuckin' lurker heard it too.” Josiah added. 

Still, Ho-Jon felt compelled to defend the decision. “Trust me – it was worth it.” He said, slightly winded and just a titch light headed. “It was a calculated risk.”

Starbuck's eyes narrowed more than thought humanly possible. “And who appointed you to make a 'calculated risk' like that? Dammit, Ho! I expected better from you! What if you missed! Then what?” What came next did little to improve his mood.

“Oh, uh...I – I'm not the one who took the shot.” Nodding his head towards Willy. “He did.” Willy stood there with that goofy hillbilly smile of his. Starbuck's jaw dropped and the other two took a cautionary step back in case a bolt of lightning from out of nowhere struck near where they stood. 

“Ho-ly – FUCK! What in the name of Marco _FUCKING_ Polo would make you do such a lamebrained thing?!” Pausing to check the volume of his voice he was half tempted to rip off the man's head off and shit down the resultant exposed neck.

“We had to chance it.” Vi began. “We've seen deer plenty of times but never been able to get close enough to actually kill one. Now we got ourselves a shit load of food.”

“Yeah! Never killed anything larger than a raccoon before.”

Starbuck simmered ever so slightly. “First deer, eh? You drink its blood?” A Native America custom dictated that that the hunter, upon the killing of his first deer, drank some of its blood to become spiritually connected with the animal as a sort of coming-of-age ritual.

“Fuck yeah. Ho-Jon insisted on it. Blood always that fucking salty?”

“Dat it is. Hopefully youse don't catch no parasite or nuttin'.” Linc added, chuckling as the color drained from Willy's face.

“I'm sure you're in possession of a fully developed immune system, Sir William, so you'll live. Wouldn't be too so sure of some.” He added with a piercing look aimed at the Oriental dissident. “Regardless, nice shooting Tex. Well now. Ho-Jon. Since you ran this op – you can carry that deer. All. The. Way. Back C'mon, let's hubba hubba.”

With that the reunited teams set course for home with their four legged prize.

Having finally made it back inside the safe confines of the school all were greeted with much relief and fanfare. For the second time in as many weeks Willy found himself once more the recipient of much back slapping and various platitudes from friends and acquaintances alike. Starbuck's mood had yet to improve even with this drastic increase to their food stores and instead of being happy like the others he instead reminded them that the act was reckless and irresponsible, not to mention stupid. Not even the Grinch Who Stole Christmas was this much of a sour puss. Still, he admonished them stating that possible gains don't always outweigh the inherent risks. To but it bluntly, they were lucky. Simple as that. Instead of netting a deer the shot could just as easily missed its mark and next thing you know they're cut off from the school by hundreds of walkers. Just like Clem's secret visit to the train station it was in their best interest that this was a one time thing as Aasim had once warned.

As was his wont to do whenever some alone time was in order, he went for a walk. A double shot of Jose Cuervo would have been better but beggars can't be choosers. Enjoying the solace that only solitude can provide was probably the only thing he and Violet had in common. Leaving the perturbed commander to his own devises Linc trussed up the deer, aided by Louis and Chef de cuisine Omar and who were shown how to dress the animal. As the deer was being eviscerated Clem, AJ, Violet and Ruby helped Zachariah prep the fish as half would be cooked and the rest smoked. 

The work continued well after the sun began to set and the smell of deer and fish roasting on an open fire filled the courtyard. All hands were united in resisting the urge to sneak a tiny morsel of food before dinner. Maddy caught Louis who swatted the pilfered piece of fish out of the thief's hand. As they sat down and commenced eating AJ suggested a hootenanny to celebrate the day's good fortunes was in order. Most involved were all for it. Let's see what Killjoy had to say.

“No.”

“The fuck not? We've been working our fucking _asses_ for _days_. What can't we just relax for a couple of hours?" Vi retorted. Starbuck parried the verbal thrust by stating that they'd been away from Woodsfield for well over a month and may not even _have_ a home to go back to. With each extra day at Ericson's, instead of Woodsfield, was another day with its population was down five able hands as well as a precious horse. He didn't need to mention that with each passing day anyone could ascend the throne during his absence – one not inclined to wheel and deal with the school. While he felt confident that he had swiftly and effectively dealt with all possible usurpers the same set of circumstances which allowed his rise to power presented itself to any who desired the throne for themselves.

Needless to say, the debate continued unabated even as they ate their fill of deer and brookies. Though Clem's clan ate better than ever before the food still had a slightly bitter taste as Starbuck continued to be unwilling to budge on the issue. The only one who oblivious to the arguing and more intent on enjoying the feast was Rosie. Prior to today the best meal she had had was Abel's arm. She enjoyed her share of the victuals, the deer in particular. The fish – not so much. Back and forth each side presented their case until Ho-Jon pointed out that the wind had shifted, now coming from the southwest and the leaves had inverted. 

A storm front was on its way and a storm meant rain was sure to follow. A party might be just what the doctor ordered after such a wholesome meal and would be a welcome distraction as they waited out the rain which was bound to come. Hurriedly they cleaned up the dishes and saved the largest bones for future meals. The meat in the smoking tent, meanwhile, had nearly finished drying by the time the first rain drops fell. As the skies opened Starbuck peered up into the nimbus clouds and wondered if the weather and all those around him conspired against him to force his departure plans to take a detour to a place called Destination Fucked.

“Oiy vey...very well...” The amount of cheers which erupted from the announcement did much to irritate and annoy him as the jubilation came not just from Clementine's Flying Circus but from some of his peeps as well. “Ah, shut the hell up. Damned pricks.”

With Lady G secured in an alcove, and this time out of the rain, they sojourned inside to prepare for the up and coming party.. 

  
  
  


  
  
  



	15. Festivities

“Here you go, Ruby!” Aasim called out, entering the music room, a cardboard box under one arm.

“Great! Where the hell were they? Been lookin' high and low for 'em.”

“Up against the wall. Back behind the staircase.”

“_Willy_! The _hell_ you put them out there for?!” She yelled.

“Fuck yourself!” Willy retorted.

“'Cuse me?!”

It was no exaggeration that Rube had, in fact, searched high and low for the missing box and its desired contents. Thirty minutes were wasted searching box after box, each time coming up empty before enlisting the help of Aasim in tracking down the box containing the candles used during their first hootenanny. For the life of her Ruby couldn't remember what happened to them after and when she asked the others all fingers pointed to the same culprit – Willy. When confronted by the Grand Inquisitor the hillbilly denied any and all knowledge and as Ruby's anger grew and her patience began to wear thin violent oaths including but not limited to chucking the next box which failed to contain candles at his cranium were uttered, so help her god.

Willy was certain such threats were nothing but smoke and mirrors – so he hoped. So long as he remained high up in the opposite corner of the room and out of throwing distance from the reformed berserker he was safe – again, so he hoped. AJ couldn't help but chuckle, admiring the little squabble as he stood atop Linc's shoulders where the three were hanging up the banner painted by Tenn bearing the words 'See You On the Other Side,' Clem's saying meant to invoke confidence before the whistle blew and shit hit the fan. With his end of the banner secure he tossed the hammer to Willy who tacked in his end likewise.

As the music room was getting decked out the others were engaged in other activities. Louis and Josiah were upstairs fetching the headmaster's gramophone and record collection, Omar and Maddy were finishing up clearing and cleaning up the remnants from dinner and doing dishes. Starbuck gathered the table scraps for use as bait before collecting the smoked fish then searched for a suitable storage place while Clem waited for Rosie to drop a deuce before another deposit was left in the office.

As Aasim handed over the box both brushed hands, ever so briefly, and the ginger kid felt a tingle and felt herself flush at this fleeting touch – a lingering effect of their oh-so brief love affair, the flame of which blew out not long after Clem's comeback. By all outward appearances Aasim appeared the one least effected during their time in custody out of the three -ex prisoners but as time wore on a marked change in attitude and deportment came over him which only the blind could fail to see. With her psychiatric abilities woefully inadequate Ruby knew only that something from his time aboard the _Fitzgerald_ had manifested itself – and she wanted no part of it.

It all began just a few short weeks after Lilly's destruction with instances of unwarranted moodiness and irritability directed towards his friends. Aasim was already short tempered in the best of times now add to this the unenviable prospect of becoming one of the de facto 'adults'. This transition from student to caretaker befell others in the same age bracket such as Vi, the twins, Mitch, and Marlon as well. Ruby would later be added to this group of aldermen and women upon the death of Ms. Martin since try as they might nothing could motivate Louis to take anything even _remotely_ seriously. But Lou's stubbornness and disregard for what was now was their new reality came with a silver lining: it persuaded Marlon to take up the mantel as leader of Ericson's. Bringing some semblance of order and cohesion to his fellows. With this upgrade in station would put him in a position to spur Lou on to take shit more seriously if ordered to do so by his best friend. Mitch was cut from a different cloth. He was one who, as an anarchist – one who despises any such form of authority – at once resented and questioned the legitimacy of this newest form of authority. Then again, he kept tabs on Willy and as far Marlon was concerned, so long as Mitch helped with the hunt, did chores around the school and keep Willy in line he didn't give a fuck.

As time went on the ratio between the kids and 'adults' thinned as day by day, week by week, year by year, the kids fell – whether to walkers, illness or misadventure.

But back to the more modern Aasim.

Next were the occasional fits of violence, the breaking of the occasional dish during or after dinner. As he walked down the halls one day he reached up and sent the trophy case crashing down before continuing down the hall like nothing happened. The icing on the cake came in the form of his going ballistic on AJ, screaming at the top of his lungs and yelling at AJ to quit being such a baby as he sat crying outside of Clem's room where she lay within a hair's breadth from death. Had Clem been conscious, missing a leg or not, she would have ripped Aasim a new asshole. In retrospect, it did help to explain the reasoning behind that Grade A beat down he gave Starbuck upon their first meeting.

Then there was the ever so elusive thing called sleep – not entirely unheard of considering the world had kinda sorta came to an end and death now awaits around every turn, ready to pounce upon the next unsuspecting victim. Some days, as the others slept, Aasim would slip out of the room he shared with Louis and would sit and stare into space for hours on end before returning to bed before the others awoke.

On those rare days he actually slept he awoke to a feeling of gloom and heaviness which felt like an elephant had planted itself on his chest, smashing him deeper and deeper into the mattress. Each and every day was a constant game a tug of war between getting up and getting on with the day and staying in bed and saying 'fuck it'. Most days he pulled himself together and sluiced off the morning's doom and gloom, while on others Louis would be the one to drag him bodily out of his malaise. Even once out of bed he was still out of sorts. Even that which previously provided him with solace and piece of mind from this chaotic existence, his journal, now failed him. In it, the date would be annotated, a sentence or two written and back it would go – out of sight and out of mind 'til the morrow. If he bothered at all.

With the school's head shrinker having checked out, bought the farm, and gone to push up the daisies his chums had no way of knowing that while Aasim may be the only one not _physically_ harmed he was nonetheless mentally scarred and the one in most need of inner healing. While both Omar and Louis were also deeply affected by their shared experience theirs were dissimilar from Aasim's. Louis, left to his own devices, inadvertently developed a coping mechanism whereby he mentally collapsed within himself while Omar was kind of forced to remain dependent on Aasim's care and ministrations while he waited for his leg to heal.

Had the Indian spent any length of time on the shrink's couch he would next describe the vivid nightmares which continuously haunted him, the ones which played over and over like a surveillance video on a loop. The memory of Louis' vitriolic oaths which cursed Lilly and all of her cronies, their immeasurable shock at seeing Minerva in the flesh – their former bud and colleague now in cahoots with the enemy followed shortly by the sound of Michael and Dorian entering Lou's cell and his ear-splitting screams as they cut off his tongue. Aasim begged and pleaded for bandages for both until the captors relented and handed over the old, dirty remnants of a shirt. Try as he might neither Gad nor Dorian, not even Minerva would allow him to tend to Louis.

Poor Louis. The consummate jokester, the one always there to greet you with a smile and a lame joke, the one there to cheer you up when you're feeling blue – now left wailing in pain as he lay, left alone with only the occasional hushed and disembodied voices of his friends who assured him that Clem and the others wouldn't leave them hanging in a lurch and were, at this very moment, formulating a plan to save them. As Aasim was prevented from helping him it was all Aasim and Omar could do to keep his spirits up. They could easily share the same fate if caught even speaking between each other and had been threatened as such. Regardless of how confident and reassuring the words were Lou was still all by his lonesome, laying on the cold floor of the cell, curled up in a ball, piteously whimpering and crying.

It was some time before the bleeding of the amputated tongue, the blood which occasionally would make him choke on, blessedly stopped. Then he preceded to sob day in and day out – the only sign that he was still living – where he awaited rescue or death, whichever came first.

At long last Aasim was able to pull himself out of the doldrums by keeping busy and avoided speaking of the matter. This treatment method was not ideal but it was what he felt most comfortable with. No way would he part take in any of that group therapy crapola even if both Omar and Louis shared the same gut-wrenching experience. Then final lasting effect of his incarceration, because of Louis losing his tongue, under no circumstances would he so much as touch a knife as it brought back the memory of what were to become Lou's final words. None of which are fit to print here.

With the music room now gussied up in its regalia and finery, the party-goers mobilized – with the exception of Linc. Surprise, surprise. What a shocker to hear that he was struck down with a sudden bout of food poisoning, ostensibly out of the blue, to explain his lack of attendance. Worry not, he just wanted some sack time. The man, once the size of a mountain in days past, now had the circadian rhythm of a zoo lion. Either that or he's powered by a bank of cleverly disguised solar panels which regulates his energy and, by contrast, his enthusiasm. Perhaps your average house cat would make a more appropriate analogue than a top tier predatory cat.

Let's check back in with the shindig and see whats going on.

Despite everyone's earlier enthusiasm hootenanny Mark II kicked off and petered out in no time flat. The atmosphere, the pizzazz which the last party held just wasn't happening. Everything was different. Conspicuously absent were the imminent threats of great bodily harm or death, the grandiose plans works to rescue prisoners; ones doomed to a life as expendable child soldiers in the employ of their enemy if they failed. No coordination or choreography was needed between the school and James whose skills were needed to guide the horde into final position. Missing also were the multitude of unknown variables, each capable of throwing a monkey wrench into any and all carefully laid plans – had there been any. In its stead was R&R, Rest and Relaxation. The idea of rest, or even relaxation, such an alien concept given the currant day in age. As it stood, R&R resembled anything but. Instead it was, well – boring.

Mind-numbingly so.

The sounds of some listless Jazz tune, its name and artist lost to memory, filled the room as the humanoids stood or sat around in small groups or individually twiddling their thumbs. A party they wanted and a party they got and that party was boring as fuck as it had no set itinerary, plan nor sense of direction. Most ideas sound good in then initial phase but when it comes to said idea into execution its not unheard of for it to go tits as we now see. Relying on this fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, make-it-up-as-you-go-along gameplan sometimes works but as is often the case plans require at least some structure, some order. If not, someone should stand up and take charge at the very least. Otherwise you're stuck with a bunch of people having a conversation that goes:

“What do you want to do?”

“I don't know. Whaddaya wana do?”

“I dunno. Don't matter to me.”

“Wanna play twenty questions?”

“OK.”

“Are you a mineral?”

“Yeah!”

Et cetera, Et cetera, Et cetera.

While Linc was sawing logs and dreaming about God knows what Aasim played poker with Zachariah and Ho-Jon, the girls chatted with AJ while Josiah wandered about stroking the spines of the plethora of books which graced the bookshelves – not like he would ever be mistaken for a bookworm. Willy stoked the fire as Omar stood by the gramophone, waiting for the song to end so he could swap records. Louis cradled one cheek and daydreamed, mindlessly tapping the same piano key over and over. Starbuck sat straddling a chair, his face bearing a look which said, 'Are you not entertained?'.

Suddenly, and without warning, something seize Zachariah's attention that made him to look up from his pair of threes, ace and the Jack of Clubs and Spades. Those furrowed brows and the confused upon that face holding all the telltale signs of some drastic realization.

“Do you guys smell popcorn?” All activity stopped and thoughts of boredom disappeared as all but the Delta's leader stopped and began sniffing the air, each desperate to catch even the faintest particle of that long forgotten and missed scent, the memory of which making each mouth salivate.

“Fucking asshole!” Ho-Jon roared, throwing his cards at the man having realized he had been duped into taking a whiff of a fart. Had popcorn not been so sorely missed the practical joke would have garnered a better reaction but, alas, fell flat. One important consideration when delivering a joke or trying to be funny: know your audience. Just like telling a dead baby joke in a Neo-Natal ward won't go over well as may get the attempted comic tarred and feathered, deservedly so. The mix of stale, soured air and a partially digested meal wasn't conducive for a pleasant smell. The hilarity didn't even last for the one who unleashed the one-cheek sneak. Zachariah was lucky Clem didn't up and smack him with one of her crutches.

“Could this party get any worse?” the omniscient narrator asked no one in particular, fully knowing the answer.

Remember that beach ball AJ found many moons ago? Well, it, along with any good thing didn't last and had long since bitten the dust courtesy of Lou and his ill-timed kicked which popped it. The act earned himself a well-deserved place in the doghouse with Clem for the subsequent forty-eight hours.

And so, apart from this brief interlude, the boredom continued.

As the stench faded into nothingness Violet cast a glance over one shoulder at Starbuck, the man having moved scarcely a muscle, and scowled. “Starbuck looks pleased with himself.” No one noticed it at the time but this was the first time she ever spoke his name. See how bored everyone is? Hearing his name called made the Delta's ruler snap out of his lethargy but it did nothing to improve his acrimonious mood.

“Oh, believe you me. My nipples explode with delight.” His voice dripping with cynicism and bitterness. “Nothing like watching people, young and old with their thumbs up their petulant asses.”

“_Sor_-ry I asked.”

“Let's just say I've seen more animated characters at a Leper colony.” He added caustically.

Ho-Jon looked up from picking up the remnants of his junk hand before making a suggestion. Not that it was a particularly good one. “Could stand around, hold hands and circle jerk. Sing 'Kum bayah'.”

Hearing this Maddy added, “If ya had a guitar, Ho, ya could regal us with your rendition of 'My Dog Has Fleas'.”

Well this party had a one-way ticket to Destination Fucked.

“Uggghh. Piss on this!.” Starbuck grunted, rising to his feet and shoving the seat aside. “Louis! Scooch over!” Rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles he sat down at the Raven. The mission, if he chose to accept it: breathe new life into the heart of the baby grand and kickstart this shindig and rock with your cock out before all was lost.

Before kicking off the set came a decree delivered to the assembled masses that the first voice to utter the words 'Freebird' or 'Stairway' would summarily get smacked the ever-loving shit out of them. Announcements now dispensed with the first song was a little ditty by the late Sir Elton John, “Honky Cat,” before he segued into the tune played the day the pupa emerged from its chrysalis – when Stanley left and Starbuck emerged, a fast paced classic entitled “Saturday Nights Alright For Fightin”. These were followed up by slower numbers by the likes of Bill Withers and Billy Joel, both deceased unless they were holed up in their multi-million dollar mansions or hunkered down in fallout shelter somewheres. Anyone's guess at this point.

Next, a bit of Ragtime. The audience watched in fascination as each one of those ten nimble fingers danced across the full length and breadth of the keys as the pianist poured his soul into each key stroke and sang as if performing before a crowd of thousands. The younger audience sat gobsmacked by this level of musicianship after years of being subjected to Louis' putzing around. Even Starbuck's people, fully aware of his ability to carry a tune were shocked by this hitherto unknown piano prowess. As those digits soared across the ivories the occasional sour note was struck and ignored as he played on, not skipping a beat. Considering a piano is supposed to receive professional tuning every other year it was miraculous the Raven was even remotely in tune, in particular after nearly a decade of neglect.

It wasn't until Little Richard came over the airwaves that AJ rose to his feet and delighted the crowd as he showcased those patented dance skills. Now the performance could be said to have truly kicked into high gear as the party was recalled to life and others headed to the dance floor. With the crowd movin' and a-grovin', rockin' and a-rollin', reelin' and a-feelin' the entertainer fed off this renewed source of energy from the crowd and he ramped up his playing to eleven, Spinal Tap-style.

Now this is an example of improvising or 'winging it' paying off some handsome dividends.

While the lack of any sort of musical instruments will inevitably cause a musician's skills to degrade overtime the opposite held true pertaining Starbuck, instead he thrived. Still, his stamina suffered. While playing was no obstacle maintaining such a physically demanding set list was rapidly becoming untenable as he felt the resultant energy drain rear its ugly head.

Time to slow things down.

With the music more favorable for dancing it wasn't long before the first person seeked a partner, the first team consisting of AJ and Maddy. The sight of AJ slow dancing whilst standing atop Maddy's boots was enough to melt even the most callous of hearts and others soon followed. Granted, the existent skill set between each pair varied but this party was about kicking back and having fun not vying for top prize in some dance-off. Next up, Ruby and Aasim – a first dance for both before Rube cut the rug with AJ. Knowing full well it would creep out Omar Willy grabbed the Chef's hand and drag him onto the dance floor before being batting the hand away and telling Willy to fuck off. Louis and Clem wondered how best to navigate the dance floor with only three feet between them before settling on holding each other close and gently swaying in time to the music. So far as the two lovebirds were concerned nothing else in the world mattered except the two of them, here, in this moment as they shuffled ever so gently as one. Maddy and Ho-Jon followed and Aasim felt the first ever pangs of intense jealousy as Ruby accepted a dance offer with Ho-Jon without a moment's hesitation. The frown on his mug was seen by everyone in close proximity so Maddy sashayed over and swept Aasim off his feet. Aasim's heart leapt into his throat as Maddy gave him an unexpected dip he swore came close to breaking his back.

The room's festive mood nearly ended like a meteorite crashing down and striking you in the forehead as Josiah, when asked why he wasn't dancing, replied by saying the only move he knew was the horizontal mambo.

“What's that?” The music ground to a halt as Clem glowered and cast a finger of warning towards the ticket holders before any had a chance to utter a syllable. There would be no repeat performance of last time. Remember that little incident regarding Willy and his little – habit? With all in silent agreement, disaster having narrowly been averted, the band played on. Zachariah found the role of wallflower not to his liking and mustering up the dregs of his courage, asked Vi for a dance – only to be promptly shot down. Dejected, he nearly threw in the towel before Clem took him up on the offer. Unlike Aasim, Lou didn't mind letting his woman dance with another.

Once the final strains of 'Time In A Bottle' faded Starbuck was tuckered out, the sweat continuing to drip from his forehead from the exertion of near uninterrupted playing for over an hour, with little respite. Finding himself hoarse he gladly took a swig of water from a proffered canteen before ceding the piano back to Louis. Taking a seat once more on the bench Louis played that song which contained a beginning, no middle – and no end. After thirty seconds of this drudgery Starbuck's inner Popeye rose within, crying out, 'That's all I can stand, 'cause I can't stands it no more!' as the energy was sucked clean out of the room, the energy Starbuck had fought tooth and nail to attain.

“Never heard of a pianist who doesn't know a single song.”

“First time for everything. Hasn't played one in fucking _years_.” Willy bemoaned. 'Ol Lou cast a wayward glance at his honey who rolled her eyes, a smirk now lighting up that lovable face.

“Alright, Mr. Grand Artiste. Just this once.” The her smile was infectious and sent a gust of wind into his sails as he began to play. Louis got as far as the first chords before Starbuck stopped him, recognizing the song.

“Seriously? _Hundreds_ of _thousands_ of songs and that's the best you can do? Even I'm not that tacky.”

“He played it our first day here. It was kind of sweet.”

“Yeah! It was really cool! Didn't know Clem had her own song!”

_Swept you off your feet on Day One_. He said with a wink in her direction.

“Oh, _please_!” Clem retorted but not before everyone saw her blush.

“Very well then. Know the music?”

_Enough_.

“Follow my lead, be mindful of the time change and I'll queue you at the end.” Giving a four count the maestro and Louis took center stage as Starbuck belted out the words to “My Darling, Clementine”. Clem's knight in shining armor was taken aback upon learning how much of the words he didn't know – the chorus and a few verses – and all out of order. Then again, if you've ever gone to karaoke isn't that par for the course? Either that or some half-in-the-bag drunk thinks they're hot shit and soils the sanctity of some musical classic by butchering the words. “Cuse me while I kiss the sky” becomes “Cuse me while I kiss this guy” or “wrapped up like a deuce in the middle of the night” morphs into “wrapped up like a douche in the middle of the night.”

From previous experience we know some of the words so allow your humble narrator to fill in the gaps for sake of time.

In a cavern, in a cavern  
Excavating for a mine  
Dwelt a miner, forty-niner  
And his daughter, Clementine

  
Drove the horses to the water  
Every morning just at nine  
Hit her foot against a splinter  
Fell into the foaming brine

  
Ruby lips above the water  
Blowing bubbles soft and fine  
But alas, I was no swimmer  
So I lost my Darling Clementine

The song finished both stood and took their bows to raucous applause from the packed concert hall. Once the hooting and hollering died down Starbuck turned to Louis. “If I may be so bold as to request a song?”

_By all means._

“Could I hear that song you wrote? The one with Minerva, that is. Never got to hear the whole thing.” The Deplorables exchanged uncomfortable glances amongst themselves before Omar spoke, stating the obvious.

“Well – uh, Minnie's dead.”

_And I can't exactly sing._

Zachariah looked perplexed. “Hold up. So after all these years you mean to tell me not one of you know the words? Find that a little hard to believe.”

All eyes fell on Violet.

“Fuck. _NO_.”

“Aw c'mon!” Ho-Jon retorted. “We're all friends here. Besides, you shut Zack down for a dance. You owe him at least that much.”

“Or he'll play more fucking ass kazoo, yo.” Josiah added.

“Yeah! Come on, Vi! You got a great voice! She sang it for us last time! Do it – do it for Tenn.” Aha! Therein lies Vi's Achilles Heel. For Clem it was AJ. Tenn was Vi's kryptonite.

Poor Violet looked like a deer in headlights, gawking at AJ before blinking a few times and caving into the unintentional peer pressure from her friends. “Ah, shit sticks. OK.” AJ could have burst with glee but restrained it lest she have second thoughts.

And so began the song the inmates of Ericson's had heard many times before and Clem and AJ once – twice if you count that confounded bridge.

The song came about years before when a sudden burst of inspiration struck Louis in the wee hours of the morning. Desperate not to forget the intro he dashed off to the music room and played the sequence of notes over and over until becoming second nature then bolted off to Room 433, the room which Minerva and Sophie once shared. Neither twin was pleased at being roused from bed at Oh-dark-thirty, least not by Louis who refused to leave until Minerva hop out of bed and help compose what he fantasized would be his Magnum Opus. Gentle persuasion having failed a new tact was devised, one which utilized a vicious tug at the mattress sending the singing twin flying into the wall and the mattress dragged into the hall, all the while vowing to leave it in the courtyard. It was only by Sophie's timely intervention when Minerva caught up to him that Lou was saved from getting his skull thumped.

If, and _only_ if, he promised to fuck off and let her go back to sleep once finished would she lend her singing talents. An accord having been struck both made their way to the music room and sat down to write.

Having heard the intro which jolted Louis out of bed Minerva felt all interest in sleep vanish as she grabbed pen and paper and began furiously jotting down the words, words which would come to fill the music room for years to come and which graced those same walls only once since. The chords and the harmony came easily as Minerva conjured up a sizable portion of the words in short order. Some songs are written as easily as that. That's the power of music. The heavens may have been in the right alignment at the moment or perhaps or just the right combination of singer and musician which allowed them to hash out the bulk of their one hit wonder in under twenty minutes.

How many times those words, words whose first draft were scribbled on the back of a bill of lading for long obsolescent school supplies, that now filled these near-empty halls was impossible for anyone to accurately guess. The two would periodically play their duet before a packed house as a spiritual pick-me-up for the other students. The song's effect on the audience was much needed, more so as the school's population, their audience, grew smaller and smaller and better seats became available as each student was picked off whether due to walkers, illness or misadventure.

For those few who remained, those who grew up with the twins, now that they knew the tragic story behind the twins disappearance and their respective deaths the song held a new, deeper meaning which left nary a dry eye among their former friends as the song drew to a close. For Clem, who had only met Minerva, in less than ideal conditions, it wasn't quite the same but it did aid in putting Minerva's evolution into evil in perspective. For some time after the last note faded into oblivion not a soul spoke until Clem, peered out the window behind the piano and watched as the rain drops pinged against the windowpane.

“I think that's as good a place to end.”

“Agreed.” Starbuck nodded. “We ship out in the morning, ladies and gents. Thank you, Violet. You sounded phenomenal.” But Violet was too busy crying to respond to the compliment. Once the tear factory closed shop for the day all hands commenced cleaning up before heading for bed.

According to Aasim's bookkeeping the date was November 2nd, just over two and a half weeks since Starbuck's arrival. The waning gibbous phase of the moon provided the Delta members with just enough light to check traps and conduct a quick hunting romp as the others slept which netted a dozen fish, six rabbits, four squirrels and a possum. Doubting the kids willingness to partake in the marsupial they decided to keep it for themselves. Waste not want not. The sight which greeted them in the courtyard upon their return left them most humbled. Turns out Omar had awoken to relieve himself and finding Starbuck and company missing, promptly alerted the others. Clem's cadre were much relieved, foremost AJ, to find their new found friends had not vacated the premises without first saying goodbye. Since all were awake one last foray was launched for wood and a light breakfast of dried deer and fish was prepared before, at long last, it was high time to head for the hills back to Woodsfield.

Handshakes, hugs, tears, phone numbers and email addresses were exchanged as the former enemies thanked one another for an unforgettable experience. Given the damage the late protagonists and antagonists inflicted upon the other in days past it was a surprising how bittersweet and heartfelt those goodbyes were. Before the Delta sullied forth parting gifts were distributed. Ho-Jon gave Ruby some hairs cut from Lady G's tail as the horse traipsed about grazing. Rube was told to boil the hairs in water to soften and sterilize them for use as sutures if the need ever arose. Maddy gave Aasim a peck on the cheek which made Ruby bristle slightly. Linc made a bracelet out of honeysuckle and presented it to AJ which reminded Clem of the one she once wore during her tenure with the New Frontier. When the time came for Starbuck to bid adieu to Vi he stood before her and gazed one last time into those emeralds he was sure to miss before his gaze fell upon the pin on her lapel.

“Camp Paya, huh? Sounds like a nice place.”

“Nah, not really. It blew chunks.” The man chuckled, not the least bit surprised. The relationship between them had not always been cordial but over the last few days had mellowed to a degree. By no means would he pop out a fake birthday cake and sing “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” but they had a new respect for the other.

An idea sprung to mind and reaching up to his own lapel and removed a pin of his own. “I would expect nothing less coming from you. Afraid I'm going to have to miss your birthday so here's a b-day gift.” It was an Army insignia pin with a hollow ring surrounding the letters 'US', made of brass. “Got that from my old man. Wasn't in very long. Got kicked out after a few months for gambling – so the story goes.” Pinning it on and seeing her not recoil in horror said a lot in regards to the change in attitude which existed between them.

“Oh. Uh, thanks.” Feeling herself blush she felt like kicking herself and prayed no one else saw it but her back was turned and would have been mortified to see all her friends smiling.

“Clementine, a word in private, if I may.”

“Sure thing.” Rising from her seat she walked away from her friends, new and old.

“Need to talk business so it may be awhile. Best hop on Lady G. Be more comfy for you.” Linc trotted over and both men hoisted Clem up and onto Lady G's back. Making sure she wouldn't fall off, both men unaware that this wasn't our debutante's first time on a horse, the two leaders left to talk shop.


	16. Of Mice and Clem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't know why it won't let me add chapter notes but please pretend its at the end. Viewer discretion is advised. Spoiler Alert.  
Skip this unless you want the surprise spoiled.
> 
> Last chance.
> 
> *bediah-True story. Just substitute 'my sister' for 'Clem'.  
**Shepard- Couldn't for the life of me find someone named Clementine with a middle name that fit or didn't give the person's middle name. Don't like Shepard after some actress? Well my only other choice I found was Clementine Ogilvy so be grateful.  
***'Et tu, Brute?'- Julius Caesar's last words from Shakespeare's play of the same name which, commonly translated, meant “You too, Brutus?”

“Been awhile since I've ridden a horse. Not many left are there?”

“True that.” He said with a smile. Glancing behind him and seeing the others out of earshot the smile faded ever so slightly. “Not many of us left. Mind if I be frank?”

“Don't be frank. Be yourself.” She teased.

That was an eye-roller. “Shit, that's one of my lines. _Definitely_ need some new material.” He said half to himself.

"Sorry to burst your bubble but learned that one from Louis.”

“Goes to show great minds think alike. Speaking of Louis, you have _got_ to light a fire under that guy's ass. I know he's been through the wringer but you all have – 'specially you.” Patting the stump of her leg. “Damn superhuman you survived losing it.”

“Not much of a choice. Lose the leg or become a walker. I told AJ to leave me – but he didn't listen. Just – couldn't bring himself to do it – just – leave me there.”

Being that it was in neither's best interests to dwell on such depressing subjects he sidestepped then juked as he perked up and tried to lighten up this joyless mood. “Lucky for us both, my friend. Luck for us both. All you need to do is locate someone missing their right leg and you two can go shoe shopping.” Clem almost slid off Lady G having taken a playful swipe over the joke which would have made Louis jealous. Luckily Starbuck's cat-like reflexes kicked in and caught her in the nick of time and gave a reassuring wave the others that all hunky-dory. 

With both heart having returned to their respective places Clem sighed. “And after all I've been through now I'm a cripple and stuck indoors forever.”

“You're a survivor, Clem. A survivor with few equals at that. Saw a guy jump over a split rail fence carrying a rifle. Dumb bunny managed got his finger stuck in the barrel.”

“How the hell?”

“How the hell indeed. Enter Dumb Fuck the Second who starts tugging on the stock. Dumb Fuck the First freaks out, tugs as well, falls – bang.”

“Didn't kill him, did it?” You know the answer.

“Took two days. Half his hand was gone. What was left looked like hamburger. Wasn't the first time I put someone down. Just the first time using this.” Extracting the piece of coat hanger later used to murder Spencer in the supply tent and twirling it between his fingers.

“Think we have a shot? The school, that is.” The man cocked his head to one side and pondered the question for a few ticks before nodding in the affirmative.

“I think so. All must be on board and on the same page. Play it safe though. Stock up on all the dried food and water you can, devise an escape plan, set up a mustering point – a place to meet up if shit goes all FUBAR.”

“Fubar?” Clem asked, confused. Pete had used that when they first met and wondered what it meant.

“Acronym. Means Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition. SNAFU means pretty much the same thing. Situation Normal All Fucked Up.” 

A meeting place. The cave! The same one Clem, AJ, James and Tenn found that night after escaping the twisted wreckage that was once the _Fitzgerald_. The last time anyone saw James – alive as it turned out. It would be the logical place but the problem was the others didn't know where it was and even Clem doubted she could find it, even in broad daylight. Doubtful AJ would remember and Tenn was dead. The final nail in the coffin was if that community had horses then they would be picked off one by one. She shuddered to think what fate would befall any of her friends if taken prisoner.

“So what exactly should we be on the look out for? Vi, Aasim and Willy saw a caravan pass some time ago.” Lady G was halted and Starbuck looked grave as he met her glance, looking none-to-pleased, a sharp edge to that voice.

“Did you make contact?”

“No. We tried but couldn't get close enough. They looked later but they disappeared.”

“_Good_. Invisibility is your best defense. Hard to do with a structure this size but best not go looking for trouble. You lucked out with us. May not be so lucky with the next group you cross paths with. Unless it's me or my people no shelter is to be found here. Give no quarter. Shoot on sight and for cripe's sakes don't miss.”

“Sounded dumber the more I thought about it. Nothing good comes from trusting strangers most of the time.” Like Bonnie. “You're an exception.”

“Appreciate the compliment, but you are correct. Trust is a fickle thing. Back to your question: keep your eyes peeled for trash, old campfires, boot prints and/or hoof prints, anything man-made. When I'll send out a patrol here I'll send one person back there,” pointing behind him, “ so you'll see at least one familiar face. Can't guarantee I'll be able to visit since I have to run the asylum back home.

Clementine's suggestion of utilizing a challenge word caught his fancy as it would help facilitate identifying friend from foe in the event any Delta member the others hadn't already met weren't available. It would be up to the leaders of both allied communities to create these secret passwords and since Starbuck wouldn't be available he would entrust his word to a subordinate. The first word agreed upon would be 'bediah,'* an imaginary word for crayon Clem's late grandmother taught her back when she was AJ's age. After this agreement both head honchos didn't speak for some time, each lost in their own thoughts until Starbuck broke the silence. 

“I envy you, Clementine Marie.”

“Me? A cripple? I'm just a kid – not like being called a 'kid' means anything. Anymore. Its Shepard.** Not Marie.”

A shrug. “Shot in the dark. Would have guessed it sooner or later.”

“_Bull_shit.” She retorted.

Another shrug. “You're in charge of what,” and ticked off names on his fingers, “seven? Eight if you include Rosie. Yours truly gets the joy of babysitting and supervising dozens. Astonishing I have any hair if one stops to think about it. You don't have to worry about being overthrown or have anyone try to undermine or usurp you power and authority. Well – perhaps Violet when I first showed my purdy little face but that's to be expected. Not likely she's the trusting type.”

“Hahaha. Nope. Definitely not the trusting type. Even took me time to win her over. Never tried to undermine or 'usurp' - whatever that means - me but sure didn't like me letting you stay.”

“Sorry to be the cause of friction between you two. She's right to be mistrustful. It's the safe play. You see, I get to go home to Woodsfield and hope I don't get 'accidentally,'” air quotes, “shot as I go for a daily constitutional or stabbed in my sleep. When you use violence to obtain power others can easily do the same unto you. 'Sic Semper Tyrannis', thus always to tyrants.”

“Glad I could give you some needed beauty sleep. We come across an interior decorator I'll see what they have to offer and get a price quote.”

“Oooh! I'd like that. And yes, the sleep was much appreciated. Even if everybody wanted me dead.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “If I had a dime every time someone wanted me dead...” His voice trailing off. 

Clem couldn't suppress a laugh. “If I had a dime every time someone underestimated me.” 

Starbuck let out a laugh himself and given what he knew of Clem he suspected that what she had done in with the past six months was but the tip of the iceberg since the collapse of civilized society as pertaining to her list of accomplishments. Even from their first conversation together he knew just by that stern look and that steeley-eyed glare in her eyes that this broad was one not to be trifled with despite her age and the loss of one limb. It would be no surprise to learn that people underestimating her had become a most valuable asset, one used to her advantage and the detriment of others on more than occasion. If being an Apocalypse survivalist was an occupation Clementine would have one _helluva_ resumé.

“Always said I was smarter than Lilly. Knew from the get-go that you were cut from a different cloth, as it were. There's a boat and her crew laying at the bottom of a river and another whom makes one nice lawn ornament.” Clem said nothing but gazed skyward and began to whistle innocently. “Not like Abel had long to live anyways. Not with those hand rolled cigarettes he cherished.”

“How he'd find anything to smoke? Me and Vi found butts in the fishing shack.”

“Corn husk. Dried and cut real fine.”

“Eww. Gross.”

“Yeah it is. Years pickling his lungs from the inside out. Speaking of the dearly departed – the card game. No one seemed to know anything about the lead-up to the match between David and Goliath. How they both came to be. What set the two combatants on a collision course with destiny? I'm referring to you and Lilly, by the by.”

“Goes all the way back to when it all started. The walkers.” Trust him though she might there was no need to cover every single, minute detail. He could wait for the book to come out, if he so desired. “Long story short – we were in the same group – once. I was eight. That group had me, Lilly, her dad, some others – Kenny – his family and,” she heard her voice begin to crack, “Lee.” The memory of Kenny and Lee were still tender, tender even after all these long years. She felt immense guilt having realized she hadn't given either man so much as a thought given all the hustle and bustle of life over the last few weeks. The idea that she was even capable of forgetting them sickened her. Especially how both had sacrificed their lives so she and AJ could live when so many others had died. Starbuck was no fool and accurately divined that the story hit a sensitive spot seeing how choked up Clem had become so didn't press her to continue. Instead her allowed her to answer at her pace, if she decided to. Just looking at this female phenomenon he could vicariously sense those sinuses begin to burn as she fought desperately to hold back the tears and not let the urge to cry take hold once more. He knew the feeling all to well himself. At long last she swallowed the urge to cry and force it back into the dark abyss where it dwelt. 

“I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for either of them Lee and Kenny. AJ either. Lee found me, scared and alone, he kept me safe, taught me how to shoot, how to survive. Everything I learned I learned from him and taught to AJ.” She paused to collect herself. “Years after – he” god_dammit_ her voice cracked again, “Lee...died – I met up with Kenny again. He helped deliver AJ. Then he died too – somewhere.” 

Kenny, Clem and infant AJ had walked for nine long, frost-bitten days and nights after Kenny and Jane's epic clash to the death. Having reached their ultimate destination, the longed desired place of refuge, the place she first sought out for with Christa then Kenny. Wellington. Their world fell to pieces finding it filled to capacity and unable to take on any more souls. Not to be deterred, Kenny, by way of a little politicking, persuaded the gatekeeper to allow Clem and AJ to remain and not take the supplies given them as a consolation prize. The man so well and truly broken having lost both his family on the same day followed later by his girlfriend who had discovered him in his time greatest of need. Even after all this loss and heartbreak, the only people he had left, the only ones he had left to love, the ones he had fought tooth and nail for – were Clementine and that swaddled little bundle that was AJ. 

Having done all he could for the duo Kenny turned and walked off into the sunset. Never to be seen again.

The transition to living in a permanent settlement like Wellington was all well and good until it was attacked like so many others. Clem fled with AJ in her arms and kept running until she crossed paths with Ava and joined up with the New Frontier. Fast forward forever and a day to the present; she found herself in a new home, without a leg, riding a horse and shooting the shit with a man that once marched to the beck and call of her arch nemesis. Like they say, there is irony in literature because there is irony in life.

“I'm sure they'd be proud of you and all you've done for AJ.” Clem smiled and looked down at the man in appreciation. “Even though he killed Lilly.” Well that escalated quickly. That's one way to make someone's face fall and their shoulders sag. Killjoy strikes again.

“Oh...you heard that.”

Another nod. “Maddy told me. Suspected as much anyhow. Recognized Gina's gun. They used to bunk together way back when.” Gina must have been the one James wrestled with. “So that was the murder weapon, eh? I'm mad at you.”

Clem's eyes blazed. “She _deserved_ to die!” She snapped. Any feeling of remorse she held of giving AJ the go-ahead to he Lilly shuffle off this mortal coil vanished quicker than Zachariah's fart from the night before. “No fucking _way_ I'd let her hurt us again! Not as long as _I'm_ around!” She shouted, stabbing a thumb into her chest for emphasis.

“You misunderstand my verbiage.” He replied, raising his voice nary a decibel. “I agree she deserved to die. I'm mad because you got to see her breathe her last and I didn't. Ho-hum. C'est la guerre.”

“You're not much for talking like normal people, are you?”

Starbuck raised both hands, palms up. “Where the fun in that?!”

Still, Clem's shoulders sagged. “Should have done it myself but Lilly and I were fighting and AJ got the gun first. That's what caused James and me to go our separate ways. He warned me about AJ – about AJ becoming a killer. He even said he liked killing. Marlon. Lilly.” 

Tenn. _Twice_.

Starbuck arched an eyebrow. “Strange thing coming from the mouth of a Whisperer. Not exactly the sociable of people, if you catch my drift. Must have been the black sheep of his troupe.”

“Sure was. Tried convincing me that walkers were still people. That deep down the person you knew was still there, trapped in some kind of hell. It's bullshit. There's the living and then there's walkers. That's it.”

True is it not? Walkers are like Terminators as described in the first installment by Kyle Reese. 'It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, remorse or fear. And it absolutely won't stop, ever, until you are dead.' What better analogy is there? What better way to describe a walker's existence, its modus operandi than that of a machine which serves only one purpose. And what purpose is that?

To eat.

Let us conduct a hypothetical science experiment, shall we? We begin by locking one hundred human beings inside of an sterile, escape-proof room. Now we add a single walker and toss away the key. The outcome: Walker one hundred, Humans zero. Why? Because nothing, nothing short of destroying the brain will stop a walker. It will eat, and eat, and eat. Even when its stomach ruptures its hunger will still fail to be satiated. This foulest of creatures will not so much as slow down if its stomach explodes with enough force to cut itself in twain. So long as a food source remains within sight it will continue to gnash its teeth in ravenous hunger, lusting for more until the muscles which control the mandible whither and rot away.

“No, not bullshit. Just bias.” Came the unexpected philosophical reply.

“Bias?”

“It's like this: you've spent half of your life running from walkers. Your Whisperer friend, James, right? He's spent much of that time _living_ among them. You two were just polar opposites of the other. Different sides of the same coin. Don't get me wrong, I wholeheartedly agree with you but I'd simplify it further by saying there's the living – and there's the dead. That's it. No ifs, ands, or buts. No afterlife, no heaven and hell, no soul trapped inside each walker. You live, then you die. That's that. End of story. That's all she wrote.”

“Would be nice if there was something left of the person – or an afterlife. See the people you love once again.” 

The elder man scoffed. “Well you've obviously never had -in laws.” Clem chuckled which made Starbuck smile once more before returning to the subject at hand. “Now what I would have done to Lilly – heh heh – tie her hands above her head and dangle her corpse off the bow of her beloved _Fitzgerald_. Not before letting her turn, of course. You converted Abel into a lawn gnome, Lilly gets used as a hood ornament. While we're on the subject, what was her dad like?”

Her features clouded at the memory of the six foot tall piece of human debris. “He was a fucking racist asshole. Never got along with Lee or Kenny right from the start.” Even at such a young age Clem had a feeling she would not like the man, an opinion that was fomented moments later when Larry expressed his wish to play chuck-a-Duck and toss him out of the pharmacy thinking Kenny's son was bitten, which he wasn't. Alas, Kenny's son had but a few months to live but in a twist of karmic justice Duck outlived the man who wished to cast him out like used bath water.

“Hah! Apple sure don't fall far from the tree.”

“Definitely not. Lilly was okay at first – then her dad died. Turns out one guy in our group was stealing meds and when she tried to kill the shitbird another guy, Doug, tried to stop her and got a bullet in the head. He was a good egg. Lee left her there, along the side of the highway.” She unwittingly paused for what would was once termed, in theatre and cinema circles, dramatic effect. “Last time I saw her until a few months ago. Surprised we even recognized each other after all this time.”

“I can imagine.”

“I do have one regret though. About Lilly.”

“Oh?”

“Wish I could go back in time to the day she died.”

"Et tu, Brute?*** I'd kill her myself.”

“Tell her, 'Always wondered what was the last thing to go through your dad's head – besides that salt lick.'”

Those hazel eyes bugged out to the size of saucers as he stared up at her in mock horror. “Salt lick?! Yowza. _Some_body had issues.”

“No choice. We were locked up in some storage room by some cannibals and Larry had another heart attack. Lee and Lilly tried to saved him but Kenny wanted no part of it and – you know.”

A nod. “Good call. Even if he pulled through he'd be as helpless as a kitten. Have to be carried. Sooner or later either he'd gets left behind or gets one of you killed.” More silence followed before a bombshell in the form of a statement came in from the outfield. “No easy way to put this so I'm just gona say it: hope all of you are virgins.”

“The _fuck_?!” Clem cried out, justifiably incredulous and rightly so. “You sick asshole! Who the fuck do you – ” The cessation of Lady G's forward momentum caught her off guard, forcing her to grasp the saddle's pommel in a death grip lest she go head over heels. “Mother _fucker_!” She hissed. Equilibrium having been restored she was met with a pair of eyes the intensity of which she had not seen since he threatened to lat siege to the school and raze it to the the ground. While that face may be stern, hard as granite and unyielding his voice was anything but.

“Allow me to enlighten you on a few things, Princess.” His eyes remained fixated on her. “First, you have one _lousy_ track record pertaining to adults in recent months, half of whom have wanted you _and_ your friends dead. Two, there are no regular run-of-the-mill adults left here, just kids elevated to the role of adults, long before they've reached proper maturity who wouldn't even know the meaning of the word if it slapped them in the face. Kids who were left to fill the resultant power vacuum after the faculty and the administrators vacated the premises. Three – please feel free to remove that scowl at any time. Three, this _is_ a school of 'troubled youth' after all.” The intensity of those hazel eyes faded as he became morose and saw that Lady G had begun to graze. “Lucky beast of burden.” He muttered before coaxing the animal forward. “Creepy? Most certainly. Sounded better in my head. Nonetheless, its necessary to discuss.”

“This better be good.” She replied acidly. They may have found a mutual respect for each over the last two weeks but what the actual hell was he jabbering on about now? The glare cast upon the top of his head went unnoticed, his eyes focused on some random point off into the distance. 

“Imagine, if you would, what would transpire if you, Violet, or heaven forbid – Ruby – became pregnant. What then? You said Kenny was there to deliver AJ. Ruby have any midwife experience? The others? Didn't think so. Anyone back there have the stones, the stomach for that magnitude of blood, shit and gore? You've all shown a willingness to move heaven and earth to protect one another but what about protecting them from something completely and utterly out of your control? Baby bottles and formula don't grow on trees. Nor do diapers, lest I'm mistaken and missed them in the course of my globe-trotting.” 

He spoke the truth and as much as Clem hated to acknowledge it, knew he was right. She was lucky, damned lucky to be able to provide those bare essentials for AJ. No such luck finding them now.

“No.” She replied, thinking back on that day of extreme highs and extreme lows the day AJ entered the world and became such an integral part of her life which gave her renewed purpose in life. “A bunch of us were fighting off walkers when AJ was born.” Helluva day, that was. Lose one but gain another. No tears were shed by Clem over Sarah's loss but Rebecca was deeply affected by it. The dumb kid succeeding in nothing but acting as a dead weight, a dead weight which only slowed down the group and put them all at risk. Had she not met her own premature demise she would killed the others further down the proverbial road. Damn near got Luke killed that day, same with Jane. Hell, Sarah was probably responsible for Nick's death too after she went ballistic, screaming and running like a chicken with her head cut off having seen her dad, that fake doctor, fall prey to the herd as the Cabin Group escaped from Howe's.

Starbuck then related that many of those with him, with the exception of Ho-Jon, Josiah and himself, had once been parents themselves and gave a little back story of each. Not that it mattered now. It just served to show that all just regular, ordinary people with every day, ordinary first-world problems. 

Josiah was a dumb kid from a broken home who ran away and roamed from job to job doing any drug he get his hands on. Maddy had a son while Linc was a father but not one to receive a 'World's Greatest Dad' t-shirt. Even by his own admission Linc guessed he had half a baseball team spread about the country and probably more overseas. If it was possible for anyone to conceivably benefit from the end of the world it was Linc and those in financial ruin. Had it not he'd either be rotting in some jail for failure to pay child support or live out his days inside of a rolled up newspaper inside of a septic tank. 

Ho-Jon involved himself in a business venture with some less than savory individuals that left him flat broke after one of them took the money they had pooled together and fled to parts unknown. With few funds he pulled up stakes and went out west when a friend of his, hearing of his tale of woe, invited him to help him run a cousin's a cattle ranch in the Texas Panhandle. With no other prospects he went west where he spent the next few years.

Zachariah's story read like a Greek tragedy. The story, as far as Starbuck heard it, from his father's nephew's cousin's former roommate who was there that Zack was the father of three girls; aged seven, five and two. He and the mother had split and one day awoke to a phone call informing him that she had packed up all the kiddos into the car and drove them – and herself – into an artificial lake. She had psych problems and turns out had apparently gone off of her meds, unbeknownst to him, weeks prior to the murder/suicide.

Starbuck was a newly-wed who was trying to make ends meet in the Blue Collar World as a – Real Estate Lawyer. Imagine that. The leader of the Delta, Lilly's replacement, the man responsible for killing other Delta members to become El Supremo – once specialized in drawing up wills and trusts for others.

“In days past, when mankind was still the dominant life-form, infant mortality was five, six deaths for every thousand births or some such. Now – we're talkin' fifty-fifty. Lose the kid, save the mother. Lose the mother, save the kid, such as AJ. Or lose both. Yet to hear of anyone saving both. All life is precious, Clem. Whether born or unborn a child is – ” He continued to speak, unaware that he was the only one listening since Clem wasn't home right now, nor was she accepting any calls. No. No her mind was elsewhere, hundreds of miles and light years away from Ericson's, the Delta and even AJ. Her thoughts went back to another dreadful memory which no one else knew and would never know. Ever.

Little Omid.

After all the playful bickering and banter back and forth between the two expectant parents as to what to call their as yet unborn child Omid would have been proud to find out he had been right all along. Christa had given him a son.

Had he lived to see him.

Had Little Omid lived. But that wasn't true, Little Omid never lived. Had never got to breath on his own, never got to cry, never got to meet his mother, meet Aunt Clem.

The poor kid was stillborn.

How Christa had been able to carry on was in and of itself remarkable having suffered not only the loss of her husband, but now, losing what was the last remaining link to Omid. With Omid dead, what now? What was to do now with both victim and murderer both dead? Once both bodies had slumped to the ground the clock started ticking before they turned. Nothing Clem tried could persuade Christa from parting with her late husband. She just stayed there, on her knees, cradling her husband's lifeless body and sobbed at the loss of the love of her life, the loss of the man whose child she still carried. It wasn't until the murderer's body was seen to twitch in the beginning stages of reanimation that she realized what must come next. Giving Omid one last kiss while those lips were still warm and bid him farewell and goodbye before rolling him over, face down and – 

The nearby crows scattered once more, annoyed at this third discharge from a firearm in as many minutes split the stillness.

Clutching the bookbag in one hand, Clem's wrist in the other, both turned and bolted out of that wretched place somewhere in the armpit of America – condemning the murderer to a life as a walker, confined to the ladies room until the next unsuspecting visitor stumbles upon it.

Words fail to properly convey the misery that now followed for the world's newest widow. Of all the people that Clementine had come to meet, since the start of the outbreak, those known to have lost a spouse, only Kenny and Rebecca could relate with Christa. Later Clem would draw parallels between the two widowed mothers-to-be: the ever present hunger; made worse now that any morsel of food was split between two, the cold, the lagging of energy, the near-zero sleep, the responsibly of carrying a child by themselves – the fathers dead and no longer able to help shoulder the burden or comfort them. Rebecca had Alvin and the others from the cabin for much of the pregnancy where as Christa had only Omid and Clem. Now she had only Clem, a child herself. 

Why not leave her? A woman, a pregnant one at that, barely able to care for herself but now also having to care for a pre-teen. Was Clem not responsible for Omid's death? Was it not due to Clem's recklessness which allowed that bitch to obtain the gun and shoot Omid? Why keep the murder weapon around? Why keep her around? Seems logical enough. The stupid kid and her gun cost Christa the love of her life, cost their son to never meet his father had the child lived and been able to grow. But both child and father were dead. So what stopped her?

A promise. 

Not just any 'ol promise but _the_ promise Christa and Omid both made to Clem. Not just out of the goodness of their heart's. Not out of a desire of doing a good deed for the day – but for Lee. 

See, by the time Clem had met up with them in the outskirts of Savanna Clem relayed to them Lee's dying instructions as the infection sapped the last of his strength as the final stages of reanimation began to take control: find Omid and Christa, they'd keep her safe; keep that hair straight and third, the words – words which your humble narrator struggles to write as pen is put to paper. Heart-rending words, those able to invoke strong and powerful emotions which only the death of a true legend, in a last-ditch herculean-like effort, can bring to the fore.

“You have to shoot me, honey.”

Some weeks before Little Omid's stillbirth, but after Omid's death, both stumbled across a group not far from the North-South Carolina border. This new group did all the could to help Christa as she traveled in such a heavy state of pregnancy, holding her hand and providing aid and comfort on their many, many stops across the way. All hearts fell the first day the baby was no longer kicking and the group became more and more despondent with each day that came and went and no motion was felt. 

Days later their worst fears realized.

Death. _So_ much death. Everywhere one looked death was ones ever-present companion. Death death death death death. 

First – was Chuck, that shitbird Ben, Kenny, Lee, Omid – all those Christa had known and had suffered with – were stone fucking dead – as well as the stupendous, monumental and joyous events to possibly come out of a world of shit and misery – were for naught. It was all just too much for her. Too much for any one person, even in a pre-Apocalypic world really. What to do when one grows so despondent having all that matters, all that means the world to you – gets snatched away from you so unfairly? So unjustly? Wail, cry, sob, lament, weep, grieve, mourn pick whichever descriptor you please.

And noise attracts walkers.

Walkers or no walkers Christa was in no mood to function, no mood to move. While Christa wouldn't budge the others held no such qualms as they fled for their lives to parts unknown. Not that Clem could find fault in their decision to flee. Had it not been for Clem's intervention Christa surely would have been reunited with both Omids in the hereafter. Perhaps it was for the better that they flew the coop. Maybe they made it to safety. Maybe they're alive. Wouldn't be the strangest thing to happen nowadays. Kenny got separated from the others only to meet up Clem meet up with him again years after the fact. Shit, she crossed paths again with Lilly after she has been left on the side of the damned highway and Clem still managed to bump into her. Literally. 

Maybe, just maybe Christa survived her run in with those bandits in the backwoods of North Carolina and was able to make good her escape as Clem had. Before Clementine returned to the here and now she toyed with the idea of what would have been had Christa – not Lilly – survived and became the leader of the Delta.

“Lost you, didn't I?” Starbuck inquired.

“Huh? Oh...sorry. My mind wonders off sometimes.”

“Well the next time your mind wonders tell it to bring back a pizza.”

The attempt at levity fell was as effective as a sumo wrestler doing the pole vault as it failed to improve that glum mood, the result of pondering what was some hardcore, somber recollections – especially for one so young.. “Yeah. Just thinking about some memories. Bad ones.”

“No problemo. All we got to keep us company at night anymore.” Now it was his turn to let his mind wander but unlike the other his thoughts were quickly reeled back to the present. “Believe you me, nothing shakes one to the core more than a pregnancy scare. Nothing.” He concluded decisively.

“Sounds like experience talking.”

“Aye.” He said before sighing heavily. “Aye, it is.” He looked uncomfortable, unsure if it were prudent or not to divulge something so personal to one so young or keep it to himself. He threw caution to the wind. “Yours truly – and uh – Maddy.”

Clem's eyes bugged out at this bomb shell straight out of a tabloid talk show. “No shit? Wow.” Wow, indeed.

“Heh. Yeah. Of all the stupid. Of all the things one could pray for there I was _praying_ for a period. After I took charge I made it clear I would tolerate none of that hanky-panky crap. Not even and grab-fanny. I don't allow it and neither did Lilly as you heard when Abel tried to deflower Sophie. One of the few things we agreed on. It's a draconian measure and appears unjust to expect but _dammit_ if it isn't a stupid, needless way to lose someone. Add to that the ultimate suffering is the loss of a child.”

“And like I don't have enough shit on my plate already.” Clem said, adding her two cents.

“Precisely. C'mon, time to head back.” 

“Yeah. Bet you're pretty antsy to get back home. At least you won't have to worry about Vi.”

Slowly Starbuck furrowed his brows in confusion. “Oh?” Ever so gradually, the fog began to clear as the meaning of her words began to sink in. “Oh bollocks! So much for asking her out to dinner.” He said, visibly disappointed and feeling slightly deflated like AJ's beach ball. “And just as I find the perfect little French place too.” His pep returned quickly and waved a hand before his face as if shooing away a fly. “Needless distraction. Still - heed my words. Contrary to popular belief I'm not just a pretty face.”

Clem chuckled. “Will do.”

“We'll be taking some of those building goodies back with us as time goes by, however.” This made Clem's features to harden and clouds could be seen to gather a foot above her head as her mood darkened.

“What if we need 'em?” Clem became more belligerent as she spoke. “We've earned them! They busted their asses off getting it here!”

Starbuck halted Lady G once more before taking a step back, placing his hands on his hips and cocking an eyebrow. “Which you little scalawags haven't been made appropriate usage of those ill-gotten goodies now, have you? Pray, tell me – any plans for the chicken wire, the sheets of corrugated tin or all that oriented strand board? Five months is plenty of time to thing of something. Tell you what: any tools you can name, you may keep. Calm yourself, Clem. We have no intention of leaving you all destitute.” Plans or no plans Clem was going to fight like a bulldog to keep as much of those supplies as possible.

“Had a helluva time dragging that shit here from the river. Took us days. We were going to take the rest but they went back one day and the raft was gone.”

“Guilty as charged.” He said, raising a hand.

“What?”

“I cannot tell a lie. That was us.” Another mystery solved. Weird how life works. What Ericson's rightfully stole the Delta stole right back. Karma's kind of a stone-cold bitch like that.

“Though the current took it and carried it downstream.”

“Nope. One of our patrols came across it one day. Imagine our surprise finding one of our rafts beached with much of its cargo scattered on shore.”

A thought came to her that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. If they found the raft that meant there were only a few, scant miles from the school as the crow flies. Future events could have played out differently had this new Delta maintained the status quo of staying in the kidnapping business, or worse, yearned for payback instead. Had that been the case they would have been well and truly screwed. Fortunately for all concerned the art of the deal was in order instead of a large serving of revenge, a dish best served cold. With the principles players dead and gone the mystery of how long Lilly knew of the school's existence before she stumbling upon Marlon and Brody would remain unsolved. For all they knew Lilly may have encountered Marlon and Brody first and only knew of the school by word of mouth. We shall never know nor does it matter.

“Could have spared us from your little Stanley charade.” She said, adding a eyeroll for effect.

“Yeah, but they'd have to return, report what they saw, then mount another expedition,” pointing to himself, “this time including yours truly. Face it: my way had more zip, more _oomph_, more spunk, grace, style, _pizzazz_!” He said, adding a Cheshire grin that had Clem take a page out of Vi's book and utilize that patent-pending, full-body eyeroll.

“Oh God...”

Business having drawn to a close they were greeted by the ever loyal AJ who jogged up, crutches in hand, with Linc and Ho-Jon right behind. Linc reached up and gently set Clem on terra firma and balanced herself on one foot before taking hold of the crutches. Clementine hoped the sadness that washed over her as she caught sight of those puppy dog brown eyes of AJ's didn't show. While it was painful recalling those dreadful memories of her past it felt good, in a weird way, taking someone into her confidence and just spilling your guts to someone. She made a mental note to do more of that in the future.

“Everything copacetic between you and the Chief, Miss Clem, I trust?” The lead scout asked with a slight dip of his head.

“If by that you mean 'agreeable' then yes, _Mr_. Ho-Jon.” She replied with a curtsy as best she could given her circumstances.

“Mighty glad to hear. Boss, once we get Lady G loaded up we can split. Grabbed some miter saws, claw hammers and some other odds and end we're gona need for sure.”

Starbuck gave a pleased nod. “Very well. Make it so, Mr. Sulu. What we need I'll leave up to your discretion.” At long last Lady G was loaded up and it came time for final farewells but not before Starbuck turned to Clem with one, final question – ok, _two_ final questions. “Can I ask a favor before we take our leave?”

“I dunno. _Can_ you?” His peeved expression at this infernal response lasted only a second. “Couldn't resist. Sure. Anything.” 

No way he'd let himself play second fiddle to a sixteen year old. He would show who was the master and who was the pupil when it came to wit and witticism and countered with a verbal parry of his own. “_Any_thing?” Vi felt her flesh crawl as Starbuck's eyes looked at her with smirk and arched eyebrow. “Mind if I borrow some books? Been years since I've laid hands on one.”

“Go right ahead.” Willy remarked. “We sure as shit ain't using 'em.”

“Burnin' daylight, Hoss. Gotta make it quick.” Zachariah warned.

“Right, right!” With that he was off like a rocket to the Admin building and vanished, emerging twenty minutes later with a pair of books under one arm like a football and running towards the goal line. “Nabbed 'The Canterbury Tales' and some Kipling. Good stuff.” He said, content and a little winded. “OK gang. Let's shake a leg. Tell Rosie Zack says goodbye.

“Right. More like good riddance.” Zachariah grumbled.

OK, _now_ came the time for the Delta to weigh anchor but Starbuck being Starbuck – a man incapable of just walking out of frame like a normal, sane person turned and in a thick Scottish brogue, shouted “Thank you, generous hosts!” before resuming his regular voice and addressing his pards. “Come, my fellow droogs! Let's make like a tree and get out of here!”

After marching at the route step for a few rods Starbuck led the troupe in song with Maddy providing the refrain in the appropriate voice.

Who's the leader of the club  
That's made for you and me  
M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E  
Hey! there, Hi! there, Ho! There  
You're as welcome as can be  
M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

Mickey Mouse!  
(Donald Duck)

Mickey Mouse!  
(Donald Duck)

Forever let us hold our banner  
High! High! High! High!

Come along and sing the song  
And join the jamboree!  
M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

The off-key singing of the ensemble faded into nothingness as they approached the gates and exited but not before each stopped and turned as the denizens of both nation-states waved fare-thee-well to the other. Even Linc felt inclined to wave. Once out of the gates, the sight of their guests now blocked by the security wall, the inmates went back to their regularly scheduled program. 

Vi still had an hour or two before she went to check for fish with Louis and Willy so she sojourned to her room for a quick nap. To her everlasting befuddlement a hardcover book laying on her mattress. Taking the book in hand and reading the title found it was a dictionary, a Merriam-Webster 1987 edition to be precise. How a book, let alone a dictionary, came to be in her procession was an enigma. Had she been in charge every scrap pf paper would have been offered up to the fire gods years before.

Opening the book the pages automatically opened to where a folded scrap of paper was tucked. Examining the note she observed the oddly familiar handwriting.

_Feel free to read this from time to time. Learn some new words and expand your vocabulary. _

_'Education is not the filling of a pail. But the lighting of a fire.'_  
_ -William Butler Yeates_

_XOXO,_

_ -S_  
  
Despite herself she smiled as some more ice was heard to crack.

“Asshole.” Thumbing through a handful of pages she soon grew weary and closed it but not before promising to give it a more than cursory glance next time. 

As for now, time for that nap.

  
  


  


  



End file.
